


The Devil Got a Hold of Me

by SaphireCorona



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Developing Friendships, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Jealousy, No idea what I'm doing, Playlist, Please have low expectations, Probably Slow to Update, Skewed Timeline, Slow Burn, Swearing, Violence, Wives, Writer's Block, all out war, another negan story, blah blah blah, bored, but damn, eventually, i think we have a problem, just go with it, probably smut, random bullshit, typical negan stuff, typical walking dead stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-17 20:31:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13084800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaphireCorona/pseuds/SaphireCorona
Summary: In the midst of his ongoing war with Rick, Negan doesn't exactly have a lot of allies; until he runs across someone who's willing to do anything to help her own people.Like, anything.





	1. Ready For It?

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this to help with my writer's block and kind of enjoyed the plot that kept thickening in my head. I also wanted to work on my character development as that is something I am not the greatest at (So I guess what I'm saying is that it's more for me than anything). Probably slow to update and may not be of the greatest interest to some people, but feel free to give it a read if you got nothing else to do.
> 
> Pretty sure I fixed all the errors. I sure as hell know I'm sick and tired of re-reading the same shit, I've looked it over so much.

I knew he was a killer from the moment those scuffed, black boots, with blood weaved into the frayed threading, stirred up the dry dirt in the hot summer sun. His eyes were as dark and dangerous as a rich liqueur that could get me intoxicated after the first sip. The lilt in his voice was addictive, like amphetamine; every word that passed through his perpetual, cocky smile always left me wanting just one more hit. He was tall, like his ego and his confidence that seemed to be impenetrable. He wore a lot of black, but his white t-shirt and perfect smile appealed to his partially angelic and charismatic disposition.

And here he was, the devil with the dusky hair and unshaven stubble, standing front and center at my door.

I leaned against the frame, arms crossed with a knowing smile and a perfidious spark in my cerulean eyes.

There was no stopping the condescending chuckle in my chest, “Tell me, Negan, what the hell can I do for you?”

 

\------------

 

“Are you sure about this?”

“Do you have a dick between your legs?” I answered, hoping he would say yes. Otherwise, I'd have a whole other issue on my hands. He sighed at my adolescence but was too afraid to stand against my fearless command.

“This just doesn't feel right,” he swayed on his feet and rustled the leaves and branches we were using as camouflage in the process. Finally, I put the binoculars down and let my gaze focus on his much closer appearance. He was older, had at least five years on me, but you’d never be able to tell by his boyish appearance and slightly windswept, atypical brown hair and blue eyes. I envisioned him as the type to play college basketball while studying psychology. He was nothing special, but he had a good head on his shoulders.

“Look, Ryan, we need food and medical supplies. I'm tired of eating the same shit every day and having to use Kyra's weird homeopathic shit every time someone gets a fucking paper cut.” It was true. The small community that I led was running dangerously low on staple items and my people were starting to get restless with worry. I knew there were supplies out here, it was just a matter of finding them.

“There’s not a single dead body in sight. People are living here,” he pointed out slowly as if it made a difference to me and my very broken moral compass.

I swatted a bee away and went back to peering through the small opticals. “No shit, Sherlock, that's why I know there are supplies in there.” I was living under the impression that there was no longer an all-knowing deity to judge my actions, so what did a few extra sins matter? At this point, it was go big or go home. It was a small building. If there were people there, there weren't that many and the needs of the twenty-five people back home outweighed the needs of the six or seven people living under the roof a half mile ahead.

We had been sitting here with the sun beating down on us for two hours, watching the small building for a sign of life. There had yet to be a single movement or indicator that anyone was home. Now seemed like a good a time as any to see if there was anything worth taking.

“If you're too much of a pussy to go with me then stay here with Mac and Penny and keep watch.” I snapped with frustration brimming in my steady voice. Mac and Penny were a few feet back, leaning against the small sedan we had been driving around in all day in search of supplies. The young but dedicated couple glanced in my direction at the sound of their names but otherwise stuck to nervously eyeing the trees.

“You can't go down there alone,” Ryan argued poorly. I could already hear him retracting his offer of joining me on my excursion. I scoffed at his reasoning. The reason I was alive, along with everyone else at my camp, was because of me, myself, and I. _My_ delegation and callous decisiveness kept us above ground. _My_ low capacity for bullshit and recklessness was how we had stayed standing so long and now it would be _my_ ambition that would put food on the table.

“I'm better off on my own at the rate you're going at.” I handed him the binoculars and zipped up my jacket. It wasn't ideal for the warm weather but it was thick enough to keep teeth from biting through to my skin. “I'll radio you know when it's clear and if you hear gunfire, get the fuck outta here and don't let anyone follow you, you hear me?” Wincing, I stood up and felt the blood flow through my cramped legs.

“You want us to just leave you?”

“Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself for fuck's sake.” I checked the clip of my Beretta before giving a half-assed wave to Mac and Penny and ambling down the unmarked path towards what was hopefully a cache of something edible and medicinal.

Hissing like a snake, he called after me, trying to speak some sense into my devil may care attitude while I walked closer and closer to unknown territory. I didn't give him any acknowledgment.

The paint on the building was off-white, dirty, chipped from gunshots and haphazardly brushed onto the cement walls to make it look more appealing. The front door was sheltered by a large but dying tree and cracked open. Perhaps someone had run across this place before we did and had the same idea. Only one way to find out.

Taking a sigh of heated, stagnant air to inflate my dangerously reckless courage, I slipped into the building without making a sound, gun raised in case I was met with unexpected opposition.

It was dark and disappointingly empty inside. There was a faint light guiding the way at the end of the hallway and I was able to see that there were a few closed doors carved into the walls. The second I took a step forward, I heard a deep voice that was rich with confidence and drunk on power.

“You dumbfucks telling me that you lost half the shit from the drop yesterday?” Oh, someone was angry and the person on the receiving end of that question was about to get their ass handed to them. Eavesdropping as I ventured on, I reached the door closest to me and twisted the knob ever so slightly, afraid the clicking and tumbling of the latch would give me away if I moved too quickly.

“We’re sorry, boss,” the one who replied sounded as defeated as a child who knew their freedom was about to be squashed by a week’s worth of solitude and separation from everything enjoyable in life.

“You fucking better be,” the first man snapped with a sigh of annoyance rounding out his threat. “Now go get what’s left of my shit and get it in my fucking truck.”

Once I was inside the room, I had left the door cracked open so I could hear. It didn’t sound like they were planning on putting their feet up and staying the night; at least the one with the voice that I wanted to put a face to was getting ready to head out. The fewer people I’d have to kill for a box of cereal the better.

Movement scattered into the hallway and I hugged the wall of the pitch black room when I heard a pair of feet closing the distance that kept me from being noticed. A gruff respire of irritation and suppression entered the room first before a short, stocky man with a thinning hairline followed. His fingertips drifted over the drywall in search for a light switch only for me to knock him out with a swift hit to the back of the head as soon as the darkness was flushed out by the illumination. He fell like a tree in front of me and I made quick work to pull his unconscious body out of the doorway so I could close it shut and do some exploring.

“Fat fuck,” I gasped for breath after dragging his heavy set frame to the side. If he was eating enough to keep that much weight on, there had to be food around here somewhere. When I looked around the room, all I saw was a myriad of small furniture items and necessities that I hadn’t thought about in years.

What a waste of space!

Not letting my dim lit hope extinguish, I returned to the hallway to try and make it to the next room. I could hear rustling around the corner up ahead but I had yet to be noticed as I held my breath and pulled on another door handle.

“Ava, what's going on down there?” Ryan’s voice buzzed through the speaker of the handset clipped to my side. Inside a cement barricaded hallway, his question might as well have been a flashing neon sign and a blaring siren to tell everyone where I was.

“The fuck was that?” Someone wondered aloud. Just me, stealing your shit, I replied sardonically in my head. The subtle loading of a shotgun preceded the collective unison of a search party that was no doubt heading my way.

I told myself I was going to rip Ryan a new one when I got out of here, but first I had to figure out the getting out part. However, fate was working against me when the only viable option I had for escape was the locked door in front of me.

A long string of harshly sighed profanities weaved a tale of distress from my mouth as I tried to remember how many bullets were left in my gun. Six. As long as there were less than six people trapped in the building with me, I would be fine, I hoped.         

I peeked around the small metal supply shelf that offered me just enough coverage, only to have a loud, heavy round fired at my head. The air rushed out of my lungs and to safety as I pulled back out of sight.

“Why don't you come on out and we can have ourselves a chat?” A twangy voice asked with false kindness.

I would have laughed if my heartbeat wasn't choking me up, “No, thanks, think I'll stay here.”

I could hear their slow heel to toe movements against the concrete as they inched down the hall, “Alright,” his sigh melted into a malevolent chuckle, “guess we’ll come to you then.”

The barrel of the shotgun pushed through the darkness and came dangerously close to brushing against the tip of my nose. Recklessly, I grabbed the barrel, pointed it towards the ground and rammed my fist into the temple of its proprietor. He swore and pulled the trigger a few times in surprise, the empty shells dropping against my feet. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and drove his head against my raised knee to finish him off. He fell unconscious on the floor and I grabbed his gun to give myself a better chance against his accomplice.

The second man was short and thin but just as irritated by my poorly timed breaking and entering. I watched his pistol rise to line the sights up with the space between my eyes. I took the first shot and knocked him on his back with a shot to the chest. This wasn’t exactly how I envisioned this escapade panning out, but who was I to question the bloodstained tapestry of fate. Perhaps getting the hell out of dodge and never letting my desperate feet lead me back here again was for the best.

“Ryan,” I ripped the walkie off my belt and pressed down on the button with a shaking finger, “meet me at that barn we saw a few miles back. You can tell me how wrong I was when I get there.” I huffed bitterly, jogging to the front door that I came in through; which had clearly been a bad decision from the get-go. I didn’t hear a reply as reached the end of the hallway and pushed through the heavy slab of a door.

As soon as the berating heat of the sun blinded me, I felt my feet leave the ground and my cheek press against the gravel soon thereafter. I squirmed angrily under the weight of a male oppression. I contorted my upper body enough to swing a punch at him but he responded by pinning my wrists to the ground.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” the request was anything but kind. He dug his knee into my sternum for good measure and I spit in his face like a cornered animal trying to scare off the enemy. The man laughed, but it was lost in the sound of the most ominous tune I’d ever heard.

Someone was whistling, high then low, over and over again, the same two notes. It was empty but filled with amusement at the same time.

“Marcus, back the fuck off,” the song was cut short by a deep voice spoken through a dark smile. My captor relieved me of his weight and I found myself lying at the feet of a tall silhouette, clad in black and blocking out the sun. “Is that any way to treat a lady?” He held his hand out to me and for a moment, the only sound that could be heard was my thick swallow of fear. “Let's get you properly on your ass, hm?”

Apprehensively, I let my hand get lost in his and he yanked me upright.

“What's your name, darlin’?” he wondered casually, the tips of his boots only a few inches from mine.

“A-Ava,” I stuttered, distracted by the sight I saw when I turned my head. Ryan, Mac, and Penny were on their knees with guns pointed at the back of their heads. Penny’s brown eyes were wide with regret and red with silent tears that made her cheeks shimmer in the sunlight. I should never have brought her along, I should never have brought any of them along.

The sharp end of a metal barb burrowed against the flushed skin of my jaw and forced my head back to look at the man in front of me. I glanced down to find a cherry red stained bat wrapped in wire gently pressed to my face.

“That’s a beautiful name,” he smiled at me and his charming disposition made me all the more unsettled. “What’s not so beautiful,” his ochre eyes narrowed, “is you breaking into my place, killing my men, and trying to steal from me.”  

“I-”

“You know, the last person who stole from me, I burned half his face off with an iron,” he laughed, God help me, he laughed at that, “but, I’m not too fond of hurting women.”

“Lucky me,” I breathed nervously, not letting my eyes leave the bat that could very easily dislocate my jaw with a flick of his wrist. He sighed and let the bat rest on his leg. I let out a hot gasp of air in relief.

“What were you looking for in there?”

“Food, just food.” As if what I was stealing lessened the degree of my crime.

He hummed and let his eyes travel down the length of my body before looking up at me with his teeth pinning down his bottom lip. “Well, people need to eat right?” I nodded. “Thing is, my people need to eat, too, and I can’t let a pretty little robber like yourself come in and take my fucking shit whenever you goddamn please.”

“I could trade you, we-we could trade, something I need for something you need?” my voice squeaked at the end.

“Ava!” Ryan hissed at me with overprotective disapproval which earned him a kick to his side.

The leather jacket wearing man seemed intrigued, his brows perked and the ghost of a smile played on his lips. “I _have_ everything I need, so unless you got something fucking interesting for me…” I didn’t need him to finish that sentence. He was ready to kill someone just for the hell of it.

“Bullets,” I interjected, “my people, we make bullets, whatever you need.”

“Ava, no!” Ryan couldn’t keep his mouth shut and I shot a glare in his direction.

“Ryan, shut the fuck up,” I snapped harshly under my breath. Out of all of my people, I considered Ryan to be my second in command. He was a humanitarian and always looking out for the group’s best interests, but at the end of the day, I was the one who stepped up to make the hard choices that everyone else was afraid to make. The black haired son of a bitch let out a sharp whistle of approval.

“Well, I fucking stand corrected, one thing I don’t have is my own personal bullet maker.” his grin lightened his eyes back to an amiable caramel color that I found easier to look into. “If you can get me ammunition by the end of the week, then you, my dear, have a deal.” He held his hand out again for a handshake.

“I can get it to you by tomorrow.” I enforced confidently.

His boot stomped the dirt and I jumped. “God damn, Ava, I think you may be my new best friend,” he forced my hand into a contracted agreement, “but,” he sang, “I’m taking your boyfriend back to my place for collateral in case you don’t come through. If you don’t have what I need when I roll up to your place tomorrow, he’s gonna die, in front of everybody.” It took me a moment to realize that he was talking about Ryan, who I saw as anything but a significant other. A pain in my ass, maybe, but not in a romantic sense.

“I’m at the hotel off of Hayfield and 635,” I informed with a cool voice. “You know it?”

The corner of his mouth lifted smugly, “I know it,” his grasp lingered on my hand. “Name’s Negan, by the way.” I nodded in acknowledgment. Who he was, what he did, or where he was from mattered little to me at the moment. The most important thing was that I had a better chance of putting food in the cupboards of my community by cutting a deal with him than scavenging and stealing. Like most of my decisions, I hoped that it wouldn’t bite me in the ass later.

“Ava, what the hell?!” Ryan shouted while fighting off the man who was grabbing him by the collar like a cat. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Don't worry about him, I ain't gonna hurt him,” Negan smirked, watching the scene unfold before looking back to me. “I'll return him safe and sound, bright and fucking early in the morning.” There was something alluring about his detached joy and deep voice that managed to slip into a melodic tune at just the right times.

An apologetic and shamed shade overcame my blue eyes and I gave Ryan a silent plea to just go with the rugged flow of events. As the slam of a truck door locked Ryan behind a rusty metal barrier, Negan clapped me roughly on the shoulder, which had the force of a ram going against a poorly stitched ragdoll. 

“Pleasure doing business with you, darling,” he chuckled provocatively, “now get the fuck outta here.”

All I want for Christmas is youuuuuu


	2. Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> Thanks to anyone who even so much as glanced at this. I have been bored the past few days and this is what became of it.

My hands wrung the sun-bleached steering wheel while I felt the car shake with every slam of the door from Mac and Penny getting into the backseat. I tried to drown out the sound of Penny's soft whimpering as Mac hushed her to keep the peace. 

“How could you let them take Ryan, Ava?” her voice broke open the gate to another wave of sobs. I sighed at her innocence. She was a tender-hearted girl in her early twenties. She had been working at the hotel when everything fell apart. Ryan and I found her hiding under the lobby desk, alone and terrified of her own shadow. 

“He's gonna be okay, Pen, he'll be back tomorrow morning,” I assured without looking back at her. 

“You don't know that!” she shouted. 

“Ryan can take care of himself,” my forehead fell onto the wheel. It was crystal clear to me that letting Ryan get taken by a group of possibly sadistic strangers was not the most admirable decision I've ever made, but I found myself trapped at the crossroads of risky business and ethical dilemmas. My people needed food and I had to think of something to keep Mac, Penny or Ryan getting killed. Sure, it could have gone better, but it also could have gone a lot worse. 

“Look, Ava, you know I always got your back,” Mac finally stepped in to buffer the tension between Penny and me, “but, I mean, we don’t know anything about these people. They could be dangerous; kill Ryan and come for us next since they know where we are.” Mac was always reliable for being calm and collected. He had been in the army since he graduated high school and had plenty of experience with the unlawful and chaotic. I wasn’t surprised when Penny fell in love with a man who was her polar opposite. 

“I just….I just need you guys to trust me.” As I took a deep breath, I sat upright. “I don’t think this guy is bluffing. He seemed a little crazy but I get the feeling he means what he says. He’s not going to hurt Ryan or any of us as long as we don’t fuck up,” I paused, “which we won’t.”

“I hope you're right, Ava,” Mac sighed heavily and pulled Penny into his side, “otherwise we’re all fucked.” 

I started the car and pushed the gear into drive, “Yeah, I know.” 

 

It was a long, painfully silent ride home. The kind of quiet where the buzzing noise that's constantly running in your head becomes annoyingly apparent, yet it's the only thing you can focus on. Penny had fallen asleep like an exhausted child who just experienced a traumatic visit to the doctor's office. I glanced at her through the rearview and found solace in the fact that, despite her break in sanity, she was able to find sleep. Mac was just staring out the window, his eyes following the trees as if he was trying to keep count. 

They were upset with me, I wasn't oblivious, but they'd move on eventually and I'd either be marking it up as an achievement or an irredeemable loss. 

When I pulled up to the shabby rolling gate that was the only way in or out of our slice of post-apocalyptic land, whoever was on guard duty made quick work in letting us in. I gave a nod and followed the semi-paved path to the parking area in the far right corner of the hotel. I bid a quick goodbye to Mac and Penny before making a beeline for the somewhat large supply room in a maintenance building that was built onto the property. I kept the smaller room for the bullets and the larger section reserved for the pantry, which was, at the moment, quite empty. Justin, a portly former accountant was in charge of keeping track of everything.

“Hey, hey, Ava,” Justin smiled, dimples forming in his freckled cheeks. He had a sunny personality that you couldn’t say no to, no matter how dark and heavy your soul was. 

“Hey, Justin,” I replied, resting my elbows on an empty shelf to relieve my sore feet of the weight, “did I miss anything while I was gone?”

He shook his head, his messy blonde hair moving with him, “Nothing more than usual. How’d your run go? Find anything good?”

I tried to answer it as delicately as possible. I didn’t need a riot of questions thrown at me for a twelve-hour hostage negotiation. “Not the worst run,” I rapped my fingers against the shelf a few times and stood up. Justin knew me well enough by now not to push me for information when it was clear that I wasn’t in the mood to give it.

“No news is good news, eh?” he smiled still. I didn’t know how he could be so damn happy all the time. He had lost his wife and son to a group of starved walkers. Said they got pulled apart right in front of his eyes. When he found his way here, I asked him if he could shoot, protect the place. He had shaken his head furiously, said he wasn’t gonna go near a gun, but he’d keep track of ‘em. That was good enough for me, seeing as he spent his life dealing with numbers already. 

“Yeah, ‘spose so,” I changed the subject, “you got the latest ammunition counts by any chance?” It was a waste of time to ask. I knew full well that he did, but I tried my best not to assume. 

“Yes, ma’m,” he reached for a clipboard that held down a worn out notepad, “counted this morning by yours truly.” 

“Thanks, J,” I took it from him and thumbed through the numbers. We’d have plenty to spare, providing he didn’t need to supply a full-blown army. 

“Lila said that they should have another box of 47’s done by tomorrow,” he paused, “if you need them for something.” He was trying to hide it, but there was concern in his voice.

“Don’t worry, I’m not planning on chasing after anyone, guns a-blazin', just trading,” my words grew quiet with thought as I worked on my mental math.

“Trade?” he cleared his throat of the foreign concept. “Trade what?”

“Bullets for food.”

“With who?!”

“A guy…”

“A guy? What, some random, strange, guy you met out there?” 

“Well, when you say it like that it doesn’t sound as reasonable,” I smirked. 

“What’s his name? You did get his name right?” Justin was such a stickler for the details.

“Of course I did, I’m not an idiot,” I handed back the clipboard, “His name was Negan, I think, something like that.” He gaped at me and I returned the favor.

“What? You know him?” Justin had been outside, surviving somehow, for quite some time before coming to my hotel turned safe haven. He had run into his fair share of travelers, both good and ill-intentioned. 

“Don’t want to. The things I heard about him…” he shook his head and blew the air out of his lungs through pursed lips, “he’s bad news, Ava.” I held back the groan of irritation and regret because I knew he was right. The guy had a bat wrapped in barbed wire for God’s sake. 

He was kinda cute though. 

“It’s just a one-time thing, okay? I promise. I’m just trying to put food on the table, you know that, Justin.” He nodded and was doing his best to support me, as was everyone, but I wasn’t exactly making it easy on them. 

“Ava!” Kyra’s shrill voice nearly shattered my eardrum as she strutted through the door. I sighed; loudly. 

“Yes, Kyra, what can I do for you?” Kyra was our doctor, for lack of better word. She didn’t go to a medical school, per se, but was a believer in holistic methods. I didn’t agree with her ideas and practices but she could stitch a wound and break a fever better than anyone so I let her rub her herbs on people and fix the energies of people’s souls to make them feel better. She was short and thin and reminded me of a pixie with her short black haircut and squeaky voice, fittingly so. 

“You let a group of strangers just take Ryan!?” Had she been tall enough, she might have slapped me in the face. 

“You what?” Justin chimed in. I closed my eyes so I could roll them in the back of my head. Word traveled quicker than a wildfire in a tinder forest in this place. 

“He’ll be back tomorrow morning. He’s fine, I promise. I know what I’m doing.” I may as well have been going door to door with how much I was repeating my sermon. 

“Ava, you’ve done some crazy shit, but this is low even for you.” Kyra and I didn’t exactly get along, especially since I was unwillingly thrust into her pathetic love triangle with Ryan. She loved Ryan, Ryan apparently had a thing for me and I wanted nothing to do with either of them but Kyra blamed Ryan’s ignorance of her love for him on me all the same. 

“Oh, please, Kyra, all the crazy shit I’ve done has kept your whiny ass safe so why don’t you shut the fuck up, go back to mixing your dandelion leaves and mud water and let me do my fucking job.” It was well known that I had a temper and the stressful events of the day weren’t doing any favors on my short fuse. “See you later, Justin.” I left on a high note, slamming the door shut behind me and walking across the lot to my room so I could lock myself inside and drink myself into a blissful night of sleep. 

 

“Long night, hun?” Georgie set a mug of coffee in front of me from the other side of the counter. I groggily lifted my head up from my forearms, which were crossed into a pillow. It was five in the morning, or somewhere around there. I was the only one up, along with Georgie, the kind-hearted old man that worked in the lobby where continental breakfasts used to be served. He was a cook and he still loved to serve a good Belgian waffle and strong, black cup of coffee. 

“Something like that,” I smiled, taking a sip while he poured himself a cup. “Thanks, Georgie, don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

He waved his tanned, weathered hand through the air, “You’d be fine, Ava, I’ve seen you make coffee before,” he chuckled. I laughed along with him but it was short lived. I had too much on my mind. “I heard about yesterday, don’t be so hard on yourself, you did what you thought was right. Can’t say anyone else would have done any different.”

“They seem to think so,” I muttered, staring into the abysmal depths of caffeinated confidence. I enjoyed my morning chats with Georgie. He reminded me so much of my grandfather that I knew it would kill me if I lost him. He had a full head of white hair, warm blue eyes and a voice that would remind you of simpler times. Shortly after things fell, he and a few others were working at the hotel and he was more than happy to call this place home. 

“You can’t please everyone, you gotta do what you gotta do. Ain’t nothing easy about it.” He sighed and sat onto a bar seat. The lobby was open and filled with white, roundtables and a bar. On Tuesday evenings, we’d splurge on our energy consumption and play a movie on the TV. 

“Do you...do you think I made a mistake?” I asked.

“I think you saved their lives by offering a trade, so no, I don’t think you made a mistake.” he rested his hand on my shoulder and gave it a shake, “You built this place from the ground up and helped everyone here survive. I’ve watched you grow into an admirable leader. Don’t you dare start doubting yourself now, Ava.”

I smiled and sensed the slightest dissipation of smoke that was fogging my judgment. “I might need you to remind me of that every now and then.” I patted his hand in gratitude. 

“That’s why I’m here, hun,” he changed the subject, “Didn’t see you at the show last night. Where were you?”

I scoffed, “And watch a romantic comedy with all the hopeless romantics? No thank you,” I took another swing and twiddled my thumbs when I set the cup down. I’d been choosing to skip out on movie night for the past few months. Lately, everyone had found someone to get close to and my gag reflex could only handle so many mismatched couples sneaking kisses and giggling like schoolgirls after sharing whispers into each other’s ears. 

“Ah, well, consider yourself lucky, Mac and Penny were the main event,” he agreed with my line of thinking. I blanched at the thought.

“Now I'm  _ really _ glad I stayed in,” I finished my cup and poured myself a second helping before rising back on my feet. “Thanks again, Georgie, if this is all works out, you're getting the first pick of the food,” I promised.

He laughed, knowing that he'd wait until everyone else had their share before he picked anything, “Go get em, tiger.” 

 

I was swearing from the underside of a car when he rolled up. I had learned from a plethora of exceedingly boring but exceptionally helpful books how to fix almost any car problem, seeing as mechanics were hard to come by nowadays. 

With my hands covered in grease and a coolant stained grey shirt, I struggled to reach the radio that was calling my name. “What?” I asked gruffly into the speaker.

“Uh,” I could picture Richard standing awkwardly at his post, “there’s some guy out here. Says he knows you.” 

“Tall guy with a leather jacket?” I guessed.

“Uh-huh,” Richard wasn’t a man of many words. He mostly kept to himself and took every opportunity for guard duty that he could. 

“It’s eight in the fucking morning,” I exasperated to myself and the car, “alright, give me a minute,” I radioed.

“Hurry. Please,” he whispered back and I rolled my eyes as I pushed myself out from under the car.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, Jesus Christ,” I snapped angrily before turning the radio off. I grabbed a rag to wipe my hands on as I traversed the distance of the settlement to the gate. Every open eye was watching me as I went and I knew they were wondering if my risk was about to get them all killed. 

He had let himself inside and was standing patiently, and ever so casually, with his bat resting on his shoulder. His lips were pursed in observance as he looked around, nodding in either approval or amusement. 

“Morning,” I cautiously broke through his wall of concentration only to receive an over-exuberant smile.

“Ava,” he looked down to the black grease stains that stood out against my worn jeans, “this a bad time?” he wondered.

“No, just working.” I glanced around him and past the gate. There were two large utility type trucks waiting outside with a few people in the cabs. “You bring Ryan back?” I cut to the chase but he ignored me as if my question was the chirping of a bird flying by.

“Nice place you got here; smart, too. You already got the amenities built in.” he chuckled. Without being blinded by the sun or by fear, I took a good look at him to try to decipher if he was some sort of psycho killer or just a guy with a bad temper and a smart mouth. He had dark hair but his beard was peppered with more grey than black. He was tall, lean, broad-shouldered; the poster bad boy. The steps he took towards me had a cocky strut that left me somewhere between impressed and annoyed. “You gonna show me around while we talk business?” 

“Sure,” I shrugged, “you gonna let Ryan go first or have you grown fond of his company?” Once Ryan was back where he belonged, I knew people would ease up on their misplaced sense of betrayal. 

“Fine,” his bright smile fell and he waved a gloved hand at one of his men in the trucks, “deal still stands though,” his voice darkened as the sky does when clouds extinguish the sun, “you don’t have what I want, I kill him.”

I looked up at him and met his gaze with more confidence than yesterday. If he was trying to use fear as a tactic to get his way, he was going to have to adjust his gameplan. “I won’t stop you, but relax, killer, I got plenty of bullets at the candy shop for you to choose from.” 

Another slow, unnerving smile met his amber eyes, “Oh, I hope so, I'd hate to hurt any of the fine people you got living here.” We both turned to see Ryan guided through the gate like a fugitive. Other than the fact he probably slept in yesterday's clothes and had a bit of dirt on his knees, he appeared untouched; Kyra would be pleased and more importantly, silenced for a short time. “Safe and sound, as promised,” Negan breathed. I was resolute in keeping my outward expressions as apathetic as possible.

Ryan was able to ignore the shove to the back he received with the help of his disdainful, malice induced glare that he gave me as soon as he saw me. I purposefully disregarded him and let Richard help him to his room. Negan caught the roll of my eyes and laughed at the strife he had created. 

“He’ll get over it,” he assured with feigned concern, “now that tour…” his brows perked and he lightly tapped the back of my boots with his bat. I scowled but started walking anyway just to distance myself from the way his overly suggestive looks were making me feel. 

“Not much to see,” I pointed to the two floored hotel that was a meager fifty rooms in the shape of an L, “people sleep there, eat there,” my finger moved to the end where the lobby was, “cars go there, make the bullets there, and I store my shit there.” Before we had gone even ten feet, I had completed my show and tell with a simple left to right movement of my arm. 

He stopped and looked down at me, a scoff making his shoulders shift slightly under his jacket, “That it?” 

“Coffee’s probably still hot if you want something to top it off with,” I offered dryly. 

“Coffee and a promise of bullets? You should’ve tried stealing from me a long time ago.” 

I barked a laugh at that as I led him to the lobby room, “You’re the first person to ever tell me that.” He was also the first semi-threatening stranger I had let roam around among my people all for a trade deal that could still be lingering in the air above us as a hypothetical scenario. I was as tense as a victim being held at gunpoint but it seemed to be another stroll in the park for him.

“How long you been here?” he was rather conversational, regardless of the preconceived reputation I had assigned to him. 

“A few months after everything started I was trying to get out of the state and stopped here to see if I could find any supplies.” Those first few months had been as difficult as they could have been for anyone. I lost count of how many times I’d almost died before holding up at some low-class hotel. “Most of the employees were still here, just barely surviving. It was secure though, for the most part. I figured with enough people and enough guidance, I could make this place liveable.” 

“You put all this together?” he asked, surprised -as most people were- as he followed me into the sparsely populated lobby. The few people who were still occupying the tables and tying up their conversations fell dead silent and stared at the man behind me and the bat he held in his hand. I wanted to ask him why he carried it with him like a security blanket but I figured it’d be best to keep my mouth shut about such matters. 

“I mean, I had help,” I reached over the bar to grab two clean mugs and then for the carafe, “but it’s all my idea.” Though I wasn’t thankful at the time I got it, my degree in sustainability had turned out to be the most useful accomplishment of my entire life. “It’s been working out. We keep to ourselves, no one bothers us and people are happy,” the dark liquid sloshed in the cups as I poured, “for the most part.” 

His hand brushed against mine as he took his drink from me, “If no one bothers you, why make the bullets?” 

“I like my guns,” I smiled from behind my cup as I took a sip. 

“Well look at you, you little badass,” he chuckled. “I’m impressed. I was expecting a run down shed with a pool but you got quite the setup!” 

“Mmm, no pool, too much maintenance,” I joked. He blew the air from his cheeks and leaned his elbow down on the counter so he could meet my gaze. Oh, he was making me uncomfortable, so much so that my cheeks turned bright red when he bit down on his lip. I went to look away, anywhere else really, but his deep voice only drew me back.

“I like you, Ava, I might have to come back here again, get to know you a little better,” he was jumping to conclusions before I could even imagine them. I took a step back so I could breathe in fresh air that wasn't laced with rich leather and bad intentions. The innocent bystanders had yet to move, their eyes glued to me like a bad car accident.

“Let's just stick to the bullets and food, yeah?” I avoided his neutral yet suggestive idea with one of my own. “Speaking of which, what sort of bullets do you need?” 

My hesitation only amused him, “What do you have?” 

“What do you  _ need _ ?” I repeated my question with narrowed eyes, sensing his doubt. He held his hands up in surrender at my quick change in attitude.

“Ammo for M16s, AR15s, 12 gauges, and Glock 34s if you got em,” he had a honed ability for fluctuating the rigid edge in his voice from carefree to businesslike. 

“Oh, I got plenty,” I assured bumptiously. He exhaled sharply at my confidence. 

“Well, don’t let me stop you, show me the goods!” 

 

The poignant whistle from his lips made me wince as it pierced the silence and reverberated off the cold stone walls of my bullet cache.   
“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding, darlin’,” his eyes wandered between me and the fully stocked shelves of crates and boxes where I lovingly nestled metal and lead protection into every open space. “It’s like a goddamn dream come true in here.” He stepped forward, his tall frame casting a momentary shadow over me. “How the hell did you get all this?”

“Scavenging, really,” I shrugged once more and moved towards a box of homemade rounds made specifically for an M16. My voice strained in the slightest as I brought it down and onto the center table that was scuffed and wobbly. “Some of them we found, but you wouldn't believe how many empty shells and cases are out there, especially in the cities.” Anywhere where the military had used their aggressive form of medication to stop the infection from spreading was always a gold mine. “I figured it couldn't be that hard to make something useful out of them and once I was able to teach a few willing people, things took off from there.” 

“Huh,” that was all he said and, admittedly, I was a little disappointed in his reaction, or lack thereof. 

I crossed my arms, “Not exciting enough for you?” 

“No, I just,” he laughed and scratched at his beard, “I'm so impressed that I don't know what to say,” he met my pending glare and grinned, “and that  _ never _ happens.” 

I caught myself smiling back at him but the gesture fell flat when I realized that Justin was watching me from the doorway, his lackluster eyes shining with trepidation. Despite Justin's ominous warning, Negan seemed like an alright guy to me. He was a man of his word so far and hadn't brutally murdered anyone during his stay. Maybe the guy was just misunderstood. Hell, I kinda liked him. 

He clapped his hands together, though the sound was muffled by his glove. “I tell you what, you give me a box of each and I got a few weeks worth of food with your name on it.” 

I looked down at the clipboard that Justin had cautiously given to me when I waltzed in with a stranger by my side. “Yeah,” I nodded slowly, “I can work with that.” I paused to debate my next question. “First, I gotta ask, what are you using all this ammo for? This is enough for a small army. I'm not here to judge, I'll give it to you regardless, I just like to know how my product’s being used.” 

His unusually captivating eyes matched the tint of his jacket. “I got a system. I give people protection and they give me half their shit. Shit like food, supplies, guns...” I perked my brow in suspicion.  

“They have guns but still need protection?”

“People are weak, Ava, guns don't make 'em strong.” He was towering over me now but all I could do was give my expression a clean slate.

“Fair enough,” I conceded with a sigh that stiffened my shoulders rather than relaxed them, “so you got a system. I'm guessing someone's throwing a wrench into your well-oiled machine?” 

That perfect, white smile made an appearance against his dark beard once more and he tapped his finger on his nose playfully. “You’re goddamn right they are, and I can’t have that.” 

I got another box down as I chewed on his words thoughtfully. I could feel his eyes on my backside as I stretched on the tips of my toes to reach it. “What’s killing them gonna get you? These people are a resource, right? The way I see it, you kill em all and you’re out a lot of resources.” Strangely enough, this unseemly conversation with a man I barely knew was refreshing. 

“That’s why it’s about killing the  _ right _ people.” he corrected enthusiastically as if he was just as absorbed as I was. However, his enthusiasm was leading me to think that there may have been some truth to Justin’s fears. The guy was dangerous, sure, anyone who was still alive was, but it was a matter what they were willing to do to stay that way. In my experience, a coward was more of a threat than a barbaric and Negan was the farthest away you could get from a coward. “If I can kill one or two people instead of fifty, that’s what matters.” 

“You got a bit of a complex, don’t you?” A sly smile and a chuckle was my reply. 

“Fuck, yeah, I do,” he ran his tongue over his lip as if he enjoyed how his conceited agreement tasted. “Now, get me the rest of my bullets, will ya?” 

 

It was hard to fight the twitching smile of relief when his men unloaded two heavy, wooden crates of food and dropped them just inside the gate. The last standing, humble, fragment of the person I used to be wanted to say some bullshit lines like, ‘oh this is far too much, you’re too kind, this is more than enough’, but I shut it down quicker than lightning strikes the ground. I stood a few inches away from him, arms crossed, most of my weight on one foot like I had something to prove.

He watched them do all the work with a stern gaze that would have unnerved me had it been in my direction. After they finished moving my outcome of the deal, they started moving the bullets into the back of an outfitted truck. I saw the sun glinting off the wire of his bat as he swung it back onto his shoulder. 

“Fair trade?” he wondered airily, though I had the gut feeling that my opinion wouldn’t matter much. 

“Yeah, this is...this is plenty,” I knew what I was going to have to say next and it wasn’t a phrase that I relished hearing myself say, “thank you,” I spoke quietly so no one but him could hear me. 

“No, Ava, thank  _ you _ ,” he turned towards me, “your bullets are gonna help me put some people back in their place.” That smile of his was as dark as the bottom of the ocean but it was growing on me nonetheless. 

“I don’t know if six feet underground is what I’d call putting people in their place, but hell, to each their own.” What should have been a thought came out as a witty remark. As his visit neared its end, a loose circle of people huddled along the outskirts of the parking lot; watching, waiting for him to leave. “Hope it all works out for you,” I sighed, trying to get some sort of ‘goodbye, nice meeting you but never gonna see you again’ out of him but he lingered still. 

“I’ll let you know how it goes when I come back next week for more shit.” Only then did he start to move towards his truck. My arms fell to my side in alarm and I chased after the hurricane of defensive words swimming around in my head. 

“Wait, what?” I grabbed him by the arm to stop him. “I didn’t agree to a 'next time'. This was a one time deal. Bullets for food and we go our separate ways.” There was a palpable shift in the already stiff and heated atmosphere. He rocked back on his heels and I was greeted by a look of irritation and perplexity. 

“What was that now?” He was giving me a chance to put my mouth on rewind and take it all back but I was either dumb or brave enough to ignore the opportunity. 

“I got no problem working with you but there’s no way in hell you’re just gonna knock on my door whenever you fucking want.” The words left in a rush to keep my voice from shaking. 

For a minute, his lips parted as if he wasn’t sure what to say. “You have any idea who the hell I am?” He growled and nudged the toe of his boot in between my feet to invade my personal space and claim it as his own. I could do nothing but glare.

“I don’t give a flying fuck who you are, what you do, or how many people you’ve killed. This is  _ my _ place and if you want to work together from time to time, fine; but if you think for one minute that you can push me around like you do everyone else, you better hope that bat can take a bullet for you.” 

“Listen, darlin', I like you, I really do, so I’ll play by your rules, you have my word,” I couldn’t tell by the deep sultry inflection he spoke in if he was threatening me or seducing me, “but if you _ ever _ talk to me like that again,” his hand met my jaw and pinched it between his fingers, “I will cut you into pieces, feed you to the dead and make you watch.” Nope, definitely threatening me. My resolve was broken by the rapid beating of my heart and I had no doubt he could see the panic in my eyes. I nodded with as much range of motion as he would let me have. He pursed his lips and held my gaze a moment longer, “I’ll be fucking damned if those ain’t the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.” 

I heard myself reflexively mumble a, “thanks,” and he let me go, laughed, and made his way to his truck in one fell swoop. Before I knew it, he was gone and I was standing in the eyes of half the population of the hotel. I stared at the fading tail lights of his trucks and rubbed the circulation back into my jaw.

What the fuck did I get myself into?

 

my absolute favorite gif in the entire expanse of the universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! 
> 
> On a completely unrelated note, I get to meet JDM in twelve days and the energy of my excitement could power a small town but I'm so shy and awkward that I'll probably not know how to act like an adult and it will be awful haha
> 
> Have a great week!


	3. Ain't Gonna Drown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ya go

I leaned on the door frame of the overcrowded pantry, my head throbbing from the imbalance of coffee and last night's alcohol outweighing my severe lack of food intake. Still, I smiled as I watched a group of overjoyed adults rifle through packaged food and fresh fruit like all their prayers had been answered with a Christmas morning-like bounty of gifts.  

“Ava,” the overly assertive words of Ryan called my name from behind. I kept my back to him. “We need to talk.”

“About?” I breathed, uninterested.

“You; what you're doing.” his uptight facade succumbed to his hope that I would be the one to cure his loneliness.

“And what is it exactly that I'm doing?” exasperated, I gave him my attention and faced him. He had changed into a deep blue plaid and jeans like he was dressed up to go a dinner date that was scheduled inconveniently at time's end. I gave him a look. A look that conveyed childish amusement and annoyance at his wasted effort. “The fuck are you dressed up for?”

It was hard to tell in the waning sunlight but there was a slight peachy tint overtaking his face. “I’m not...I just changed out of the clothes that I spent all night in a goddamn cell in.” Like a boomerang, he brought the attention back to his apparently tortuous night.

“Oh, stop being a pussy about it.” I pushed myself off the wooden support and started to walk away from him. There were only a few stragglers with nothing to occupy their rare free time roaming the grounds. The day was winding down and people were getting ready to settle into their personalized rooms with a full stomach and eased worries.

“That's what I'm talking about, Ava!” he shadowed my steps. “You act like you don't care about anything anymore. When I met you, you never would have let a group of strangers take one of your own hostage. You never want to be around anyone anymore and you've spent every night for the past three months drinking yourself to sleep.”

Truthfully, I had fallen into quite the slump as of late. My mood was often foul, like my language, my emotions despondent and lacking empathy, and the fact that I had a constant migraine splitting my sanity apart kept a seemingly permanent scowl on my full lips that used to smile and crack jokes. I had been through as much as anyone else who was alive now and for reasons beyond me, it all seemed to start weighing me down. I knew the darkness of reality would catch up to me eventually, but I never expected it to swallow me whole overnight.

“The fuck you mean I don’t care? You see what I went through just to get a few weeks of food for these people? So what you had to spend the night on a cement floor? You’re fine, ain’t you?!” I snapped harshly, my eyes sharp as daggers when I turned on him.

“They could have killed me. They could have killed all of us!” Thankfully, no one was around to witness our ongoing spat by the hotel office that I had claimed as my room.

“But they didn’t. They brought you back and they brought us food. What else do you want me to say, Ryan? I’m trying to my damndest to keep everyone fucking breathing and if I gotta work with this lunatic to keep food in the pantry then so be it.”

The words he was planning on releasing were swallowed suddenly when he heard me. “Wait, please tell me you're not seriously considering working with this guy?” Well, so much for keeping my plans to myself.

“So what if I am?” I challenged.

“You can’t! You're going to get us all killed if you work with this guy. We're not gonna have what he wants one day and he's gonna do worse than take someone hostage.”

“Look, I’m the one in charge a fucking reason. I don't do the things I do because I want to, I do them because I have to. I stopped caring a long time ago about what makes you or anyone else happy.” my voice was on the verge of shouting and I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. It was his humanity speaking, not his discordance.

“Ava, I know you think you're doing the right thing by trading bullets for food, but the guy's unstable. He's only gonna make things worse for us.” he took a subtle step in my direction but I counteracted it with an ostentatious receding of my feet.

Ryan was a nice guy, hell, he was probably one of the best people from the opposite side of the gender pool that I’d ever met, but I had no interest in seeking a relationship with him; or anyone else for that matter. I was created for the arms of solitude contrary to my youthful, wishful thinking. The only worthy relationship I ever had started in a cloudy day of doubt and ended in a violent flash flood of cruelty that took my feet out from under me and drowned my trust in salty tears and emotional baggage. It was probably partially to blame for why I drank more than my fair share of mind-numbing alcohol.

Why he was interested in me was far beyond my mental perception.

“I'd never put anyone here in danger. If it didn't feel right, I wouldn't even consider it.” I vice gripped my forehead with my thumb and index finger to hold back the railroad spike driving painfully into my skull. “And God knows I'm getting tired of looking for food every fucking day.”

“Then let me help you run this place!” he pleaded with the desperation of a boy looking for a date to the prom.

“No!” a low, cold, bitter gust of wind escaped my lips. “You care and that's a problem. You let your emotions get in the way and I can't have that.” It was an underlying compliment rather than a put-down. “If you were the one to deal with what happened at that stash house, you would’ve gotten everyone killed because you would have put up a fight and tried to be the bigger man.” Kindness was once a quiet strong suit of mine but it was buried along with my sad excuse of a family.

“You wanna help? Stay the fuck out of my business unless I ask for your help.” He was crestfallen and dejection slumped his shoulders. “Now, go get yourself something to eat, will ya? Can’t have you starving on me.” In an attempt to soften the grating lecture I just doled out, I made my final request as quiet and soft as a mother bidding a child goodnight. It was futile, though. He gave a weak dip of the head and turned on his heels, hands burrowed in his pockets, as he headed towards the glowing lights of the pantry.

I rolled my eyes skyward, “So fucking emotional.”

 

There was something morbidly ironic about cutting open a corpse on the side of the road next to a sun-washed cross that had some girl's name painted on it. As I immodestly shoved my hands inside a bloated, decaying stomach, I tried to focus on deciphering what the name was rather than what was slowly seeping under my fingernails.

“Ah, fuck, this is awful,” I whispered to the afternoon breeze that carried the smell of rancid flesh straight up my nose.

A few days back, Kyra had not so gently informed me that she was running low on medical supplies. Rather than telling her to get off her skinny, obnoxious ass and go find some herself, I told her I’d take care of it. There was a nursing home about twenty miles out in a small, middle of nowhere, nothing town. I’d driven past it a few times and it always seemed to be too swarmed with the dead; so much so that I didn’t think it had yet to be looted. It’d be on my radar for some time and from the looks of it, the dead weren’t leaving anytime soon. My only choice was to blend in with the crowd.

I groaned in disgust as I painted the sleeves of my shirt in blood and bits of pieces of God knows what. My tolerance for the disgusting realities of life had risen considerably since the end of the world, but there was no helping my gagging reflex when I rubbed a generous amount of liquid camouflage around my chest and neck. At least I was being thorough.

Knowing I only had a few hours left of daylight before I had to start heading back to my camp for the night, I wasted no time on thinking about how long it was going to take me to rid myself of the smell of human roadkill. Once I looked as dead as I was gonna get, I grabbed my pack and slung it over my back before slipping the knife into its holster on my leg.

“Get this over with,” I sighed and started towards the nursing home that was still about a quarter mile down the road. My plan was to concoct a plan on my walk there. When I had done something of this nature in the past, I was usually able to slip in and out without alerting the locals that their dinner was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Despite my run of luck, I’d had a bad feeling twisting my gut into knots ever since I started my twenty-mile walk down the hot asphalt road. I’d gotten myself out of some sticky, gory situations and I assured my paranoia that this time would be no different but I was still on edge.

As I neared the building of what was probably an aggregation of dead-alive grandmothers trapped in their wheelchairs with half knitted blankets on their laps and middle-aged nurses who were either too stupid, scared, or benevolent to get the hell out of dodge, I heard the infamous mosquito like hum of groans and raspy calls of discomposed immortality. I parked my body behind one of the brightly colored busses in the six space parking lot and took a few extra minutes to survey the damage.

The front of the building was once a welcoming porch that had a wooden swing painted a daisy yellow to match the rest of the house. A loose throng of walkers kept their shuffling orbit close to the entrance which was going to make it harder to use my functioning opposable thumbs to open the door and waltz in without standing out. Too impatient to wait for them to clear out, I scrapped that idea and tossed it into the pile of sensible choices. Instead, I looked for a window that might have been left open; or broken open, but no such luck.

Harassed with my relentless downpour of bad luck, I grumbled a few select words to the keeper of my fate and decided to try for a backdoor. Steeling my nerves, I emerged from the safety of the dilapidated bus and skirted along the property as I made my way to the back. It was a diminutive building with maybe ten rooms for the residents and it didn’t take me long to reach the other side.

The yard behind the building stretched on into the fields and was sparse with trees. There was a small concrete fountain that had been overtaken with weeds and wildflowers and a few benches parked alongside the wall. I spotted a small awning window cracked open above one of the benches and the way the sun reflected off the smudged glass made it seem like it was my only option. The thought of blindly forcing myself through a window into a room of what could be starving walkers did not help the heavy dread I’d been carrying around since this morning.

The wooden, sky blue bench creaked noisily under my feet as I stepped onto it and I groaned uneasily along with it. I was able to rest my elbows up on the sill after I pushed the window open the rest of the way and I wrapped my fingers over the ledge on the inside so I could gain enough leverage to haul myself up. The air left my mouth in a hiss as the pane dug into the already bruised bone of my forearm but I had to ignore it so I could hold my upper body through the window long enough to make sure the room inside was clear. No moans or cold, jagged fingers were reaching for me so I awkwardly kicked my legs through the air to gain enough momentum to get them through.

I fell onto a musty couch and coughed at the dust that my bumpy landing kicked up. The air inside was viscous, almost, with the smell of death and lack of fresh air. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the lack of light in what appeared to be a bedroom. It was too quiet in here, and I would have preferred some sort of noise, whether it be a dead one or an ensnared animal, to make me feel less like I was trapped in a crypt of tortured souls.

Still covered in the blood of a dead woman, I rolled off the couch and onto my feet, pulling my knife out of its place on the side of my leg. Now that I had managed to get inside, I had to find where the nurses would have kept all of the medication.

The door to the hallway was barricaded by a decayed but lifeless body with frizzy, white hair and a heavy knitted sweater that was more blood and grit than yarn. I stifled my grunt of exertion as I threw my body weight onto the door to move the human doorstop on the other side. A disconcerting cracking of brittle bones split the stale air as the corpse crumpled away. I furrowed my brow at the sound and crept into the passage, my eyes straining to find the slightest movement of a standing, swaying body. The corridor ended abruptly to my left, which only left me with one direction to choose from.

To my right, the floor was littered with papers, blood-stained bed sheets, heavy steel oxygen tanks and mismatched shoes that belonged to people who or may not still be occupying the rooms. The eerie mixture of darkness and ominous silence sent a shiver up my spine that encouraged me to tighten my grip on my knife and tense my arm like a bullet waiting for the trigger. I knew if I didn't tread lightly, I’d become just another abandoned relic if I drew too much attention and got trapped.

For the first time since I had found my way in this new world, I was experiencing the long-forgotten sensation of fear. The trepidation that made my heart race so loud that I could hear it pounding in my skull. The agitation that made my body feel so cold that I could have been mistaken for someone who’d just woken up from a six foot deep comatose. My phobias all seemed to be presented to me in the short pass and I prayed to a God that I no longer had faith in that there would be enough medicine stashed away in the building to keep me from having to do this ever again.

I jumped, the air solidifying in my chest and making my lungs ache when I stepped on a pair of reading glasses that were buried under an old newspaper. The clear bauble crunched loudly beneath my boot and my eyes shot upward to ensure I was still alone.

The walls echoed and then they groaned. A lonely figure stumbled out of the room ahead of me; a nurse answering the call of a vulnerable untapped life. The sound of distaste I made in the back of my throat made my attempt at mimicking the dead a thousand times more believable. Lost in a mindless limbo, the body turned away from me and continued its search for a meal in the open lobby where the front door was. Skirting along the walls, I continued on to what looked like a room of shelves and bottles.

As I assumed, there were a few walkers loitering in the open space where the dead nurse had wandered off to. Just as misery loves company, the walkers all seemed to congregate together, which worked in my favor; for the time being.  

The room of pharmaceuticals was more of a smaller corridor than anything, open on both sides with walls of locked cupboards, hovering above dated white countertops, protected by glass; of course. I wasn't in the mood, nor did I have the time, to find something small and suitable for picking a lock, but I was reckless enough to wrap my hand in cloth so I could smash through the glass.

Before I rang the dinner bell, I tore my bag off my back and peeled it open, setting it on the counter so I could sweep every bottle off the shelf and into my pack before making a run for it.

The splintered glass fell as fine as rain but deep as thunder. I knew full well that any dead alive thing on two legs would hear and come for me. I had to stretch on the tips of my toes so I could sweep the contents into my empty bag, not caring about the excess that spilled over and rolled the ground at my feet.

When I couldn't fit anymore, I shuffled the contents and zipped the bag up. Every pill and capsule rattled but it was quickly drowned out by snarls that seemed to emanate from every room and wall in the building. I took a few paces back, looking in every direction. They were here. They were looking for me. I could no longer smell the sickly stale blood as it dried into the fabric of my shirt and suddenly worried it wouldn't keep the hands and teeth at bay once they singled me out.

On prompt, quiet feet, I turned to leave towards the lobby and was instead greeted by the exposed teeth and hollow nose of a deadman. I halted my heart and carefully retreated in the other direction. My heel rolled over a bottle of and I stumbled back into a cold body that snarled hungrily into my neck. I shoved it back from me, all expression fading from my flushed, blood smeared face when I watched the walker fall into a small crowd of dead ones who had been hiding on the other side of the building.

“Fuck me,” I whispered loud enough for fate to hear me. Surely, some higher force had believed that my elusiveness from death needed to come to an end, and what better, more fitting, end was there than seeing my insides being torn out before spending an eternity wandering around like a pack animal with half my body missing.  

My lifelike actions caught the attention of the residents and suddenly the dusty spotlight was on me. I grabbed the old woman lunging towards me by the throat and plunged my knife into the empty socket where her eye used to be. All at once, the growling grew louder and a walker grabbed my arm and pulled me off my feet. I cursed into the air and held back the dead one that came barrelling down towards me, its jaws snapping wildly. I glanced to the side to see the rest of them coming in from the other side of the room, slowly meeting up with the group that had been lingering in the lobby.

A second one fell to its knees as it got closer to me and I was beyond certain that I was just about to get a chunk taken out of my flushed cheeks. I should have been watching my life flash before my eyes, but the only thing I could think of was every swear word I had ever learned since I was eight years old. Putting my dwindling trust in the strength of my arm, I held back the walker on top of me with one arm while my other reached for the knife that fell beside me. My fingertips scraped the linoleum in desperation as the blade bounced mockingly against my skin and the ground.  

I felt another pair of hands from the crawling walker and immediately gave up hope on getting my knife back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the string of profanities was called for as I brought my other arm back and used it to push the walker off me and onto the small, dead man on the ground. The force of it tore at the muscles in my back but I couldn’t be bothered by it now. I was surrounded, being suffocated by them, and I was going to drown if I didn’t figure something out.

Faintly, the sound of rifles and bullets traversed through the decay of the room and met my ears but I ignored it long enough to grab my knife and roll over to stab it into the crawling body beside me to form a very temporary barricade.

Light flooded the room as the front doors were abruptly kicked open. The ricochet of bullets gave me hope, but they wouldn’t reach me in time to save me from the four or five walkers still making a beeline for my vulnerability.

“Come on, get the fuck up!” The voice had to shout over the snarling and I could still barely hear it through the pounding in my head. A hand grabbed my arm halfway through my frantic scramble to my feet and blindly shoved my body in the opposite direction. My lower back slammed into the edge of the counter and a hiss of pain left my lips.

I turned to see the one and only person I didn’t want to see, swinging a bat like he was about to hit a home run into an already smashed in skull before taking another one down. He was harsh, but not in an erratic way, he killed them with frightening accuracy and corrupt joy. It made me grateful that he hadn't felt the need to use his bat to make an example out of me when I first met him.

When silence fell and the dead were back in their rightful state of mind, my body collapsed in on itself and I slumped down to the ground, propping my back up against the door of a cupboard.  

My roguish knight in bloodied, black leather loomed over me, a fiery arrogance about him that couldn’t be ignored, and shook his bat, showering me with blood and bits of flesh. I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my face away. My back and body ached but his sinister chuckle was what made me grimace.

“Well, look who it is,” he crouched down beside me and turned my attention back to him with a gruff sigh and a smile, “we gotta stop meeting like this, darlin’.”

 

Ah, be still my beating heart. I'm so excited for him to kick some ass for the rest of the season. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the few individuals reading this (if there are any, that is) I plan on having much more exciting things happen so yeah. And by that I mean some Negan/OFC action so take that however you'd like.


	4. Going to Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brought to you by me not wanting to write my 14 page paper that's due in 5 days.

He drug me out of the nursing home by the back of my shirt as I fought against his grip, one hand scratching at his glove, the other working in tandem with my feet to find purchase on the hot dry earth. Carelessly, he dropped me face down beside a riddled dead body and I groaned as I rolled over onto my back. I shielded my eyes from the sun and reflected the heat of its rays back at him in irritation. He was my black cat, my broken mirror, the reason for my recent misfortune. 

“You are nothing but trouble, ain't ya?” he squinted at the bright light in the sky and sighed lazily. “Shit, darlin’, are you trying to get yourself killed?” 

A dissatisfied grunt was my reply as I flattened my palms over jagged rocks to sit myself up. In the light of day, I felt about as good as I looked. My backside, from head to heel was now covered in dirt thanks to the black haired sonuvabitch in front of me, my spine throbbed with every exhale, I was sticky with sweat and blood and I needed a damn drink. 

“What can I say, I like to live on the edge.” The words burned my throat as they escaped. 

“Well, I hope it was worth it,” he chucked my bag into my lap and let his attention wander away from me when a couple of men waltzed out of the building with guns in their hands. They looked vaguely familiar. They must have been with him when he stopped by my place a few days back. One was tall and bald but made up for his lack of hair with a dark bushy beard and an impassive stare. The other almost looked like he was trying to replicate the wardrobe of his leader but failing miserably. He was too short, too thick around the middle and his smile was too unsuspiciously kind. 

Out from under his watchful gaze, I unzipped my bag to see what I even scooped off the shelf. Anti Inflammatories, blood pressure meds, antidepressants and some other odds and ends meant to keep someone alive long after their expiration date. I wasn’t sure how useful any of it would be, but I would let Kyra deal with it when I got home. 

His shadow returned but I didn’t bother to look up at him. “You two head back,” he spoke to his men.  “I'll take little miss badass here home.” My head snapped up at his offer. Why did the thought of being alone in a confined space with him frighten me more than being stuck defenseless in a room of dead? I expected them to argue or complain but they didn't even hesitate at his command. All they did was nod and follow his orders. 

Must be nice.

“You don't have to do that. I'll be fine. I'll find a car.” At this point, I was willing to crawl over a bed of hot coals until I reached my place rather than take a 15-minute car ride with him.

“What are you fucking crazy?” he scoffed. “I was heading over to your place next anyway.” he grinned cruelly. “But I don't want my truck smelling like a fucking five-month-old corpse so take your shirt off and toss it in the back.” Before I could cut his crude suggestion with a sharp remark, he tossed his jacket at me, revealing his pristine white t-shirt and strong arms. “You can cover yourself up with that. I'll wait for you in the truck.” 

 Dumbfounded by his provoking insouciance, I watched him swing the bat around in his hand and my eyes became far too focused on the way his muscles flexed with every motion. When he got in the cab and slammed the door shut, I tried to give myself some privacy and walk to the blind spot in his mirrors so I could strip my torso down to the black bra that was probably a size too small and revealed a tad too much. I glanced up to find him looking at me in the rearview mirror and he winked. Even from the outside, I could tell he was chuckling and I found myself almost too flustered to get my arms into the jacket. I didn't know what it was about him that made me feel so uncomfortable in my own skin but I wanted to leave it as an unsolved mystery. He was a ticking time bomb and I didn't want to cut the wrong wire and have him be the death of me.

 Impossible as it was, I tried to make my entrance into the truck as inconspicuous as possible. Rather than zipping up the jacket, I grabbed each side and tucked one over the other to swaddle my ribcage in leather. It felt three sizes too big and his heated gaze didn't make me feel any less like a lost little girl in a stranger's comfort. 

 “What?” I asked through clenched teeth and a gaze that was locked forward. I knew he was smiling and his smile was about the only thing I liked about him but there was no way in hell I was going to give in so easily. 

He started the engine and his low laugh was somehow sedative. “Just admiring, darlin'.” My blood splattered lips set into a scowl and I settled against the seat. “What are you doing out here alone?” Why did he care?

I shrugged, though it was hard to see under the jacket, “Just wanted to be myself.” 

“Well that was fucking stupid, you damn near got eaten alive.” 

“I had it under control.” My actions betrayed me and before I knew it, my eyes were glancing sideways to try and decipher the ink on his arm that kept peeking out from his sleeve as he drove. 

He snorted the air through his nose. “Like fucking hell you did. You call that shit under control? Fucking shit, darlin’, you're crazier than you look.”

“Stop calling me that,” I snapped.

“Stop calling you what, darlin’?” If he wasn’t grinning before, he was now. I didn’t have to look at him to see it, I could hear it in his deep, smarmy tone that simultaneously made me smirk and shiver.

“Dick,” I muttered, miffed. Silence befell us and I stared ponderously out the window until my mind taped itself back together and started asking questions that I didn’t have the answers to. “What were you doing there?” 

He seemed pleased that I was speaking to him. “Same as you probably. My men spotted it a few weeks ago and I figured I’d make a detour on my way to see you to see if there were any meds.” he paused, his tongue running across his bottom lip. “Looks like I got a fucking package deal. Oh, and, you’re welcome for saving your ass.” 

What was becoming an amicable conversation turned sour. “I told you, I was handling it.” 

“You tell yourself whatever the fuck you want, point is, you fucking owe me.” 

“Oh, fuck off, I don’t owe you shit. You could’ve left me there and gone about your business. You made the choice to step in, I didn’t ask for your help.” I raised my voice against his.

We went from 40 to 0 in 3 seconds when he slammed on the breaks and pointedly glared at me, all amusement lost from his dark eyes. “Are you really so fucking stubborn that you can’t accept the fact that you’d have your goddamn guts spilled out on the floor if it weren’t for me? Jesus fucking Christ, darlin’, I go outta my fucking way to show you that I’m a stand-up guy, offer to drive you home, and you tell me to fuck off? I thought I was an asshole.” 

“Thank you!” I cut him off before he could berate me any further. Okay, maybe I was being a little ungrateful. He wasn’t exactly lying about the part where I’d be dead if he hadn’t shown up. “I owe you one, okay?” My fingertips, lost somewhere in the sleeve, pushed my loose blonde waves back. “I’m sorry, I’m a little tired and I haven’t exactly had what you’d call a great couple of months so can you just back off?” 

With the flick of a switch, he was as charming as a dark desire, "Now was that so hard?” 

 

We spent the next fifteen minutes without sharing another heated exchange. I was curious about what he wanted but I didn't trust myself enough to so much as breathe too loud of a sigh. I’d been snapping like a branch in the wind lately and he was the last person I needed to go off on. 

When I thought he was too focused on the road to notice me, I'd tip my head down enough to smell his jacket. For some reason, it reminded me of the one and only enjoyable summer I had as a kid. Smoke from one too many campfires had melted into the fabric, sweat from being in the sun all day, stolen whiskey and nights that never seemed to end. 

“Home sweet home,” the truck jolted to a stop and he forced it into park before turning the keys. 

“Thanks,” I muttered, my arms still crossed over my chest like a child. Neither of us moved. 

"Aren’t you gonna invite me in?” he exasperated playfully. I stiffly turned to look at him with narrowed eyes. He was oh so elated by my irritation and he knew that I knew better than to fight his intentions. 

“Please, won’t you grace me with your presence, you stuck up asshole?” I rolled my eyes of the ire building in them. He smiled a bright, heart-wrenching smile. 

“I’d love to, darlin’,” he threw the door open and slammed it shut behind him after he hopped out. A heavy sigh filled the empty cab and it took a few moments of harsh pep talking before I too could force myself to face whoever was on guard duty. What better way to support my image than to show up half naked, covered in blood and God knows what else, with a man who may or may not be a sociopath walking me home. 

Like a civilized person, he banged his wooden bat on the heavy bars of the gate to catch someone's attention. I shamefully stood behind him to shield my fragile ego. 

I almost felt relieved when Richard huffed and puffed his way to the gate, though he almost dropped the rifle in his hands when he came face to face with my chaperone.

“May I come in?” Negan feigned politeness well, alarmingly well. 

“Um,” Richard started, boldly, “if you're looking for Ava, she's not here and she-she told me not let anyone in when she's gone.” 

Jacket pinned to my sides, I stepped around my barrier. “It's okay, Richard, let him in.” 

“Ava,” the freckled, glasses wearing, anxiety-ridden twig of a man greeted me with surprise, “I didn’t think you were going to be back until tomorrow morning.” 

“Change of plans,” I informed dourly.

Negan smirked, “You heard the lady. Chop, chop!” He clapped his hand on my shoulder and threatened to loosen my grip on his jacket. His hold burned through the thick material and I forced a flat smile to ease Richard’s worries. Warily, he pressed the weight of his body against the gate and wheeled it back just enough for us to walk through before retracing his steps. 

I rapid fired my gratification to my loyal gate guard and stayed on Negan’s heels to make sure he didn’t purposefully wander into chaos. 

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

Too late. 

Ryan was all business as he stormed across the parking lot. He was on the defensive with his dark clothes and handgun strapped to his upper thigh. Who was he trying to kid? He was too much an auburn haired pretty boy with a short fuse to convince anyone that he was a threat. Still, I had to commend his determined attempts. 

“Ah, Ryan,” wanting to stab at Ryan’s buttons as much as physically possible, Negan grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me to his side, “I was just bringing your girlfriend home seeing as she damn near got her pretty face torn apart.” 

I wasn’t sure what triggered Ryan more, this man’s hand on my shoulder or the fact that I was tucked into his jacket. “Ava, Jesus Christ, what happened? Are you okay? You need me to get Kyra?” He stepped towards me but the premonition of a snarl making my lip twitch kept him at bay. 

“I’m fine,” I tossed the bag of meds at him, “just get these to Kyra.”

Ryan opened the bag and shook his head at me. “Did you go to that nursing home by yourself? You told me you were going to look for gas at that RV park.”

“What’s it matter where I went? Supplies are supplies.” I shut him down, too tired to prove my actions. 

“Then what’s he doing here?” he hissed as if he couldn’t be heard. 

I opened my mouth to speak but my savior beat me to it, “Ava and I need to talk business so why don’t you do what the little lady says so we can get to it.” 

My second in command, for lack of a better word, was conflicted between the inexplicable notion that he needed to protect me from myself and trying to be the bigger man. “Fine,” he spat, cheeks brimming with heat, “I’ll talk to you later, Ava.” White knuckling the bag of meds, he went to find Kyra and I jerked away from Negan’s grasp and started towards a hot shower with my name on it. 

“Trouble in paradise?” he chuckled, unwilling to leave me alone for more than a few seconds. Sweat tricked along my brow, my body unused to the extra heat of a heavy jacket.

“There’s no paradise,” I finally corrected him, “we’re not together. He’s just a pain in my ass.” 

“No shit?” his white shirt was inordinately clean and nearly blinded me as we walked. “Well, that’s interesting.” 

“Is it?” My feet ached as they stumbled over the pavement and it showed in my voice. 

“It could be,” his brow perked and I put a cautious amount of distance between us until we got to my door. 

“Can we talk about whatever the fuck you wanted to talk about after I take a shower?” I sidestepped his off-color comment with my hand on the knob, ready to lock myself away in my safe space until my life went back to normal. 

He leaned against the doorframe, staking his claim on my privacy, “Take your time, darlin’, I’ll wait.” 

  
  


“Alright, what did you want to talk about?” the energy to kick out the man who had threatened my life twice now escaped me. All I could do was collapse on my overworn, comfortable as plywood couch and entertain his presence with the help of a beer in my hand. 

“How was your shower?” the light-hearted sneer made my eyebrows flicker in amusement. As obscene as it was of him to ask, I did feel better once I was clean and, thankfully, I was only covered in bruises and not teeth marks. 

“It was fine,” it would have been better if he hadn’t been wandering around my bedroom the whole time I’d been in there. I’d quickly come to the conclusion that the man simply did not care what anyone thought of him or his actions.  

He picked up a heavy, glass paperweight off my bookshelf and examined it in the low light of my lamp before putting it back down and shifting the weight of his gaze to me. “I liked that deal we made the other day, my food for your bullets.”

I propped my head up on a pillow and let the water drip from my hair and create a small puddle on the floor. “Did you go through all those bullets already? What did you wipe out a village?” I half-joked with a modest amount of veiled concern. 

“Would it bother you if I did?” 

“As long as it’s not my village,” I took a sip of alcohol and closed my eyes as it put out the slowly burning fire in my throat. “Why do you care what I think?” 

“You remember what I said I was gonna use your bullets for?” he helped himself to the remaining space on the couch at the end of my feet and rested his arm on the back. 

His confidence was stirring and I didn’t like it. “Yeah, you were putting someone in their place or whatever.”

A grunt of annoyance was his precursor, “Turns out it’s a bigger problem than I thought.” 

That was enough to make me open my eyes. “Look, if you’re asking for more bullets, I can trade you again but not at the rate you’re going at.” 

Behind closed doors, he was able to drop the facade of big bad wolf and the softer edge of his voice was much more alluring than his switchblade remarks. “I was hoping to get a little more than bullets.” 

I sat up, coming a little too close for comfort, “What do you want?” I asked with heavy suspicion lowering my tone. 

He breathed a smile, “Look, darlin’, I’m a big enough man to admit that people don’t like me and I’ve got three fucking communities up my ass and I need someone on my side for a change.” 

It took me a minute to decipher what the underlying question. “You want me to be your ally? My people?” I swung my legs off the couch and rested my elbows on my thighs. “I think you got the wrong impression here. Most my people are just trying to live their life until their ticket gets punched. Hell, half of em don't even know how to shoot a gun.” 

He kept his stance casual, his hand occasionally lifting off the couch to give some action to his words. “And I'm not asking for you to lead these fine people into war,” his face showcased how ridiculous the idea sounded to him, “I just need goddamn loyalty from someone.”

“Then what would you want me to do? Be your diplomat? I can't fix your fuck-ups, that's on you.” 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Help me strategize, figure shit out, and most importantly, don't stab me in the fucking back.” The last rule was sharp and rigid. 

I blew the air from my puffed cheeks, “I don’t know,” my voice teetered in confidence, “I barely even know you and you don’t exactly leave me with the impression that you’re taking the high road.” 

 He laughed, proving me right, “You don’t have to answer me right now, but I’ll make it worth your time. Something tells me there's not a lot you wouldn't do to keep this place running and I can get you whatever you need.”

Damn him to the pits of hell, he was right. This community was the only thing I was willing to proudly put my name on, it was my only accomplishment. I cared about the eccentric group, even when they had my temper glowing red hot. The list of risks I wasn't willing to take for them was short and I didn’t have a blank space for his offer. 

Plus, it'd be nice to have a break from constantly going out and having my life dangled over the reaper’s scythe. 

“What the hell happened? Why do you need my help?” 

He continued to make himself at home and rested the mucked up heels of his boots on my coffee table. Dirt sprinkled over the well-creased magazine that I had been reading a few nights ago and I shot him a dirty look that he actively ignored. It was a foreign sight to see another person, let alone a man, in my room, on my couch. 

“Let’s just say some people don’t agree with my methods and an asshole named Rick tried to kill me so now I’m at war.” he sounded inconvenienced at most. I stared blankly at him, weighing his offer and noting how agreeable he looked when he was annoyed. My stream of consciousness diverged from the topic at hand when I caught myself wondering if he had anyone he was going home to. 

Flustered with my overt loneliness, I spoke, “I don’t…I don’t know, this could really backfire on me.” That was an understatement. I could imagine dealing with retaliation from my own people if they found out I was getting their meals from a murdering dictator. 

“Tell you what, you think about for a couple days, I'll stop by later and you can either tell me to fuck off or be a good girl and work with me.” he offered blithely. My eyes rolled skyward.

“I'll think about it,” I promised him that much and nothing more. 

“Good,” he rose to his feet and made his way over to his jacket that I had tossed on my round kitchen table. “I'll see you in a few days, then.” he shrugged his leather back on and headed for the door. I wrapped my arms around myself and tapped my fingers over my bruised rib cage as I debated on saying anything before he left.

“Hey, thanks, for...ya know,” I glanced to the side, my voice brimming with equivocation. Gratitude wasn’t my best feature. 

Halfway through the open door, he stopped to glance over his shoulder and winked, “My pleasure, sweetheart.” 

 

Sweetheart.

Sweetheart?

What was next? Babydoll?

What a dick.

I sat, slumped down in a black fold out chair that was once used for an audience at an annoying elementary school play. The dim lit room of the hotel lobby was enough to hide my etched in scowl from most of the community as they settled in for their weekly movie. 

I’d spent far too much time and energy thinking about his insincere terms of endearment and the vexations, horrifically inadmissible drop my heart made in my chest every time he smiled at me. I should have been worrying about his offer but every time I did, my consideration sauntered off to wonder if he made everyone that offer or if he talked to everyone like that. Needless to say, he managed to leave me more unhinged than I had been in a very long time. 

The metal legs of the empty chair next to me protested quietly against the floor as someone pulled on it.

“This seat taken?” Georgie asked kindly.

“Hey, Georgie,” I fixed my face and sat up a little straighter. 

He eased himself onto the chair and let out an aged sigh once he was off his feet. “I didn’t think you were coming tonight.” 

“Guess I needed a night out,” I answered, my brain on autopilot. Evidently, sitting alone in my room wasn’t doing my predicament any favors. 

“Something on your mind, kiddo?” he pried. He knew everyone well enough to know when something was off and my consistently erratic behavior was no exception. 

I looked down at the blood still stuck under my fingernails. “Unfortunately,” I frowned.  

“Anything I can help with?” he offered up his wealth of wisdom, but I needed to keep my problems to myself this time.

“Oh, no, just thinking about supplies and food; the usual.” and then some.

From my place in the back, he took a moment to survey the content group of people settling in next to one another. “Ryan said you were gonna make another deal with that tall fella.”

For some reason, my cheeks reddened, “Yeah, been thinking about it,” I lowered my voice to accommodate the hushed atmosphere, “let me guess, he said I'm making a mistake.”

He cleared his throat and mustered a lovingly unbiased expression, “He trusts you, Ava, it’s other people he doesn’t trust.” It was nothing I could condemn him, or anyone else, for. “The question is, do you trust this guy?”

I huffed the air out through my nose in a dry laugh, “He's not the worst guy I've met.” Wasn’t bad on the eyes, either. “I mean, he hasn’t given me a reason not to. I don’t think he’s a bad guy, he’s just a little,” I tried to think of the right word for his eccentric behavior, “abrasive; but he offered us food and supplies in exchange for making a treaty with him.” The dissension of my needs brought another headache. I rubbed my temple before continuing, “I know it’s selfish, but- it’s just- I can’t keep going out there. I damn near got eaten alive last time.” 

As nonchalant as I tried to be about my near death experience, it wasn’t something that I wanted to relive. Sleeping had been harder the past few nights and the thought of going back out there filled me with bone-chilling anxiety. I was too ashamed to admit it, but if Negan was happy to bring me what I needed and save me from going out and getting it, I was more than amenable to sign over what was left of my soul.

He patted my back, trying to assuage the qualms I chose not to say out loud, “You’re not selfish, Ava, we’re all here because of you. You deserve a break, maybe this is it. You know what I always say, everything happens for a reason.” 

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” I agreed all too quickly.

At this point, he was only telling me what I wanted to hear. Had he told me that I was crazy or that I was making a mistake, I would have woefully ignored him because I’d made my mind up the moment he called sweetheart.

 

I used to be a Rick girl but damn. 


	5. Through the Valley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, I came upon a man at the top of a hill.  
> Called himself the Savior of the human race.  
> He said, "I've come to save the world from destruction and pain."  
> But I said, "How can you save the world from itself?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guyssss
> 
> Sorry for the absence, I didn't really know where I was going with this so I spent most of my writing time in silent turmoil. This chapter might be a bit slow but I've got the good stuff coming for the next one.  
> As I have mentioned before, I've really got no idea what I'm doing, but I wanna stick with it for my own boredom killing enjoyment.
> 
> Also, sorry it's so short!

“So,” a slow smile graced his cunning mouth. I pressed myself further into the door he had me cornered against. 

“So?” I stuttered his words back nervously, my cheeks hot. He bit down on his lip when he saw my growing agitation and I looked down at my feet. 

His fingertips tipped my chin up, “Yes or no, darlin’?” He perked his brows and kept his voice light.

“What happens if I say no?” 

My challenge made him grin and his hand dropped to my waist. I gasped when he pulled me away from the door and against his hips. “Well,” he breathed a dark laugh, “I’ll have to convince you, then, won’t I?” He finished with a kiss that was steady and heated. His beard scratched my skin and I was somewhere between wondering what the hell I was doing and wanting more from him.

 

A bright, defined trill of knocks on my door jolted me from a restless sleep. My heart was racing and there was a knot in my stomach that began to dissipate when I realized I had been dreaming. 

“I need to stop drinking before I go to bed,” I grumbled to myself. The knocking continued and I pushed my eclectic collection of blankets off me and stumbled to the door while trying to smooth out my hair and my thoughts. 

I swung the door open and immediately wished I hadn't. “Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes,” Negan smirked at my disheveled appearance. My whole body felt feverish and I stared at him with wide eyes and an open mouth as my embarrassingly needy dream came rushing back to me. He frowned at my lack of reply, “The hell’s wrong with you? You look guilty as hell, darlin’.” 

“Nothing, I'm fine, you just- I just woke up is all.” I couldn't stop staring at his lips long enough to get the words out. His jacket was unzipped in the early morning heat and he looked as irritatingly charming as usual.

“Right,” he drawled, unconvinced. 

“You wanna come in?” I stepped to the side on the assumption he was already planning on coming in. He gave a smug nod and brushed past me. I shut the door behind him and watched him wander around my kitchen as if he was looking for something to eat. 

“So,” he turned on his heel, everything about him low and melodic. As if on cue, I skirted away from the door. He gave me an odd look at my skittish behavior. 

“How-how are you?” I ignored, looking for a sweatshirt to pull over the tank top I wore to bed. 

“I’m fucking fine.” he crossed his arms impatiently as he leaned against my counter. “Ava, what’s wrong with you, I just came by to get an answer, calm the fuck down.” 

“Yeah, no, I know,” I had to keep my voice from getting too poignant. “I'll work with you, or help you out, whatever,” slowly, the volume of my words were lost in his stern gaze.

“Really? That's it?” his trademark scoff followed.

“I'm sorry, were you expecting some sort of acceptance speech?” I shrugged a shirt on and, with more coverage on, I felt what was left of my confidence grow back. 

“No, I just thought I'd have to convince you.” he grinned and my once resilient pride faltered and crumbled to dust. His presence took over a room and he knew it. I was finding it increasingly frustrating to be alone with him without any sort of buffer to weaken his sly smiles and clever words.  
Needing to prove to myself that he was just another human being that had yet to be consumed by the majority population, I pushed past his place in my kitchen to grab a bottle of water that I had left on the counter. His eyes followed me like a condescending spotlight and I tried not to spill the water on me as I unscrewed the cap. 

“As long as you have what I need then I’ll help you with your pissing contest,” I muttered my assurance. 

“Ah, yes,” he sighed unctuously. I went to put the half empty water bottle back where I found it but he snatched it out of my hand and drank the rest like it was his in the first place. “And what is it that you need? Food, meds, clothes, someone to keep your bed warm?” he licked his lips of the water and leaned down so I could trace the not so hidden meaning of his low spoken words. It took most, if not all, of my concentration, but I kept the blood from rushing to my cheeks and the tingle in my spine from making me shiver. 

“And I’m guessing that someone would be you?” I perked a brow, unamused. 

He chuckled, “At your beck and call, darlin’.” 

“I think I’d much rather take the meds than sleep with your ego, but thanks for the offer,” he stared at me, maybe in offense, maybe in mockery, but a slow smile spread across his face.

He sighed, his pride untouched, “Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind, or you will, after today.” Before I could ask him what the hell he meant, he pushed himself off the counter, stood behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders. A disgruntled noise fumbled out of my mouth when he started directing me towards my dresser. “So, go put some clothes on because you and I are going for a little road trip to my place.”

 

He was leaning against the open door of his truck when I slipped through the front gate. Like a child waiting to go home, he seemed bored and lost in his own delusions. I shut the gate behind me so it could be locked from the other side and the sound grabbed his attention. My black boots rigidly scuffed over the ground and I could feel my frustration boiling at my uncalled for uncouth steps. Over the years, I’d grown out of my self-conscious shadow but his dark gaze made me overthink every action to the point that it felt like I forgot my basic instincts. There was nothing predatory about the way he watched me, it wasn’t greedy or unrestrained, he was keenly observant yet lackadaisical and ambrosial, even. 

I hated it. 

“You look nice,” he mused. I ignored him, assuming the worst of his intentions, and hopped in the cab. He shut me in and leaned his arms through the open window. Apprehensively, I stared at his one hand with the glove that was dangerously close to my bare arm. His lips pursed in exasperation. “Most people say thank you when I say something nice.” 

I gave him the sheerest amount of attention, “Screw you, asshole.” 

He chuckled and tapped his hand against the frame of the door, “Oh, you and I are gonna have fun today.” My scoff followed after him as he walked around the front of the truck to get into the driver’s seat. I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t at all curious about what circle of hell he traveled from on a daily basis, but my blatantly forlorn subconscious had desperately clung to the fabricated words of barren affection that he gave out without any consideration of their effects on an innocent bystander. I didn’t want to be anywhere alone with him where my thoughts would invariably start to lead me down a dark path that I swore off years ago. 

“So,” the engine roared to life and he took it out of park, “why’d you agree to this?” 

My home began to shrink into the distance as he drove onto the highway. “Well, it wasn’t because of your boyish charm,” I smirked then relaxed with a sigh. “Honestly, I’m tired of going out there day in and day out and hell, I damn near died last time.” I paused so he could sharply laugh in agreement, “I do wonder though, why me? I mean, you coulda just killed me, killed my people when you caught us. Why keep me alive?” 

With one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift, he looked over and smiled, “I didn’t kill you because you need me, and that, my dear, is what I need.” He assuaged my scowl with a defensive hold of his hand, “Look, Ava, you’re smart, ain’t no denying that, but you get yourself into some fucking dumbass shit for those people of yours. It’s a fucking shame that you put your ass on the line for them like that, but I respect it.” 

“Don’t hold back,” I muttered, looking out the window once more. 

“Your loss of security is my gain, sweetheart.” I cringed maliciously at the sudden shift of air in my chest at the word. “You and me, though, we can work out some symbiosis shit if we do it right.” he continued. “I can get you everything you need to keep that place of yours running and you can-”

“-give you my undying loyalty, yeah, I get it.” I caught on quick enough to finish for him. “You still haven't told me what the hell you expect me to do.” 

“In time, darlin’,” he assured blithely, “until then, why don't you relax a little? It's a nice day out, you're in good company…”

“I am?” I teased a laugh out of myself. 

He played along, “I ain't ever done something that didn't need to be done.” 

“Alright,” I shifted myself to face him, “then what did you do to get yourself into this mess? Someone decide not to put up with your shit? You kill one too many people?”

A deep, contemplative hum sounded in his chest, “A little of both. I killed a few of his people, took half his shit and then he went behind my back and tried to weasel his way out of our agreement with a full-on backstabbing attack.” Despite it all, he was smiling, as if the idea of getting his revenge kept his temper on the shiny side of the street.

“Why’d you kill his people? Just for fun?” 

“Please, I’m not some kind of monster.” he defended his honor with a chuckle. “That psychotic piece of shit went to one of my outposts and wasted everyone in it for no goddamn reason. Those people had wives, kids, families and he just wiped ‘em off the face of the Earth.” To support his reasoning, he added, “I never even heard of the guy before he went on a killing spree but I tracked his ass down and made sure he learned my fucking name.”  
We sped past a couple of walkers crouched over a dead deer on the side of the road, their hands stained red and mouths dripping with blood sodden fur. A shiver tore through me at the incessant reminder that had burrowed into my head; I could’ve been that deer a few days ago. 

He prodded at my arm for my attention like a needy child, “You listening to me? I’m sharing my problems with you.”

“Yes, I’m listening to you,” I exasperated. It was hard not to, he seemed to love the sound of his own voice, “the guy sounds like a prick. I don’t blame you for going after him. I know you keep saying people are a resource but it sounds like he’s only made more problems for you so why not just kill him and make a statement?” I frowned at myself. What kind of murderous conversation was this turning into? I was telling some guy I barely knew to kill another guy that I’d never even met. 

“Oh, believe me, I have every intention of making a display of him and his friends, but I gotta do it right.” 

I mulled his words over to try and understand him better, but that was like trying to explain why the sky was blue or why water was wet. He was who he was and that was all there was to it. “Let me ask you something,” I began.

“Hmm?” 

“Why’s it matter so much to you? It can’t be all about your precious pride or revenge. If that were the case, you would’ve killed them already.” 

“All the communities under my belt, I saved them and I’ve kept them safe. People don’t die in the places I protect. Sure, initially, I gotta kill one,”

“Or two,” I interjected.

He gave a wicked smile, “or three,” I rolled my eyes, “but I save hundreds more.” His methods seemed like one of the classic questions of ethics. If you could kill one person in order to keep ten people alive, would you still do it? Would you let everyone die just to keep your hands clean? Surely, his hands were so dirty that they hadn’t seen the light of day in years but it was clear he believed he was in the right and was doing the world a service. 

“Okay, but why you? Why do you have to be the one to take care of everyone else?” By now, I had my elbow wedged into the frame and the window so I could rest my head in my hand.

“Someone’s gotta keep shit together so it might as well be me since I’m so fucking good at it.” he turned his attention from the road to me. 

“Seems like a lot of pressure,” I mused.

“I’m used to it.” he shrugged. My nose crinkled at the fact he was so nonchalant about trying to save humanity.

“What did you do before all this? Were you in the military or something?” At this point, I was expecting he already had a few kills under his belt before murder became a casual norm.

He laughed. “I was a bad motherfucker." he foreshadowed. "And by that, I mean a gym teacher.”

 

  
“This floor has had 101 days without a recordable accident,” I read the sign aloud in a deadpan tone when we stopped at the top of a staircase. I could tell that someone had somewhat recently carved the number into the metal and I shook my head with a quiet laugh. 

“We like to have fun around here.” he gave a crooked smile and continued to lead us down a hallway. As we went, three men carrying rifles and weighed down bags passed us, giving a nod to Negan as they did. There was no denying the tension I felt inside the building the second we walked in. Everyone seemed to be on the edge of something; fear, violence, impatience, dread. Everyone but him, anyway. 

“Doesn’t seem like it,” I mumbled. 

“You caught us at a bad time,” he agreed coolly. “After this is all said and done, this kinda shit ain't ever gonna happen again.” he kept a languid pace alongside me and I wasn't sure what to with my hands. Letting them hang nimbly at my sides felt too risky as I wanted to abstain from any sort of physical contact with him after my unwarranted alcohol-induced fantasies. The heat rose to my cheeks at the thought and I angrily decided on stuffing my hands in my pockets. He gave me another odd look that I ignored. 

“Maybe you should try keeping to yourself after this, hm? It's worked out for me.” Well, up until now, anyway.

He veered us right and we quickly came to two heavy doors, “What's the fun in that?” he pulled on the handles to reveal chandeliers, candlelights and all things unnecessary.

I stared into the room, lost in a vacant state of confusion, bordered by lands of obscure jealousy and stomach knotting disgust. 

You had to be kidding me.

“Ladies,” he greeted the five women, clad in black formal wear, with a fulsome air lingering about him. The evocative smell of tropical candles and cheap perfume made me stop at the doorway where I firmly cemented my feet to the ground. A few of them ignored him while the others glanced dreadfully in his direction. They were all very pretty, their hair all done up for a day of what appeared to be playing checkers and reading. Without even knowing the slightest detail about them, I was already festering bitter attitudes for them. They reminded me of the type of women-carelessly reliant on their looks-that my long gone husband would have chased home after a night of pretending he had no one waiting up for him. 

When he noticed that I hadn’t traced his steps in the room, he looked over his shoulder at me. “You can come in, darlin’.” That was all it took for me to earn an acerbic glare from the slender redhead that he was talking to. 

I granted her a short-lived, narrowed eye look before turning my attention back to him. “We gonna be here long? I got shit I need to take care of.” I folded my arms over my chest, already wanting to be 1,001 miles from here. His blithe smile fell ever so slightly at my precipitous change in temperament. Just before we stumbled upon whatever fresh hell this was, I’d found myself, yet again, having a mildly pleasant conversation with him. 

So much for that.

“Well, excuse me, darlin’,” his words were sharp but his unambiguous enjoyment was a mile wide, “I just gotta have a word with one of my wives here and then we’ll be on our merry fucking way.” There was no hiding the subdued shock in my eyes when I heard him say what I thought he said. A wife would have been a big enough blow to my distorted hopes but five? He hummed a laugh and I exuded an overcharged sigh at his seemingly spurious affection towards the woman who gave me a self-righteous sneer when he pecked her cheek. 

I prayed to heaven and hell that the tightening of my jaw, the burning chagrin on the tip of my tongue and the fact that I was digging my nails into the palms of my hands wasn't due to the inane possibility that I may have been jealous of her. If anything, I should have been feeling pity for her and the rest of them but it was hard to look past the fog of harsh unspoken insults that clouded my vision. 

Tuning out his smooth chatter, I looked at the ground and my lips pulled into a frown as I stared at the hole forming at the toe of my boot. The idea of having to find another pair of boots that actually fit was more or less the last thing I wanted to do. It had taken me months and many blisters to find a pair that fit and I was prepared to wear these until the soles became one with the dirt. 

The harrowing reminder that he had haughtily told me that he could get me anything I needed parried with my footwear concerns and I couldn’t ignore the fact that if he had a room of commodities that I could never dream of possessing, then he’d probably have a pair of unworn boots that’d fit like a glove. 

A brutish body knocked me off my dark twisted path of tossed up emotions and my hands instinctively shot out to grab the door frame to keep me from falling.

“Shit, in the way much?” the man snapped. Still scowling from having to watch Negan and one of his wives flaunt their dysfunctional romance, I turned to see a short stocky man with a disheveled beard and a dirty plaid shirt. He looked like a barfly that drank cheap whiskey and hit on anything with a heartbeat. When he stopped to look at me, he changed his attitude on a dime. “God damn, where have you been all my life, gorgeous?” his lips pulled into a smile to reveal nicotine-stained teeth. He took a step towards me and I backed into the room to keep the distance. 

“Not looking for you,” I informed with curt objection.

“Well, don’t you got a smart mouth on you?” he chuckled. He blatantly laid his lack of dignity out on the table as he hooked his thumbs behind his belt buckle to rest his hands. “What else can you do with it?” 

“You wanna say that again, prick?” Had I had a knife, I would’ve been reaching for it. 

“David, what the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t talk to a woman like that.” Negan pulled me away from the catalyst of my short-fused temper and took my place. “Why are you showing your fucking face around here?”

I’d seen a gun or a herd of walkers intimidate people, but I’d never seen a man cower before another man like David did in front of Negan. He seemed to shrink two feet and lose all the color from his reddened face in the process. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to- I was just- I’m sorry- Simon wanted me to tell you that he was having the RPGs moved to his outpost in case an attack happened.” 

“Well fan-fucking-tastic,” he supplied with ample sarcasm, “now apologize to her for being a dick and get the fuck out of here.” 

David couldn’t meet my eyes this time and I smirked. “Sorry,” his apology was lost in his effort to get out of dodge before he did something to get himself killed. 

Once it was just me, him, and his wives left in the room, Negan lightly wrapped his hand around my shoulder, testing the waters for a reaction. “Sorry about that, darlin’,” he breathed. I returned his resplendent smile with a glacial stare. “Let me make it up to you, huh? Let me treat you like a goddamn queen.” 

 

 

 

At last, I've finally surpassed 600 pins on my Pinterest board of this beautiful man who was clearly crafted by the gods. But it's still not enough. 

Also, if you haven't seen Rampage, you gotta, you just gotta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering, yes, I'm totally gonna make Ava and Frankie have a "sons of anarchy" moment (when Jax and Tara get it on in the bathroom? Ya know what I'm talking about? Yeah. If not, look it up on youtube).
> 
>  
> 
> Anywho, thanks to the small group of people who gave this a read. Y'all are awesome and making the world a better place!


	6. Devil's Got My Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Devil's got my secret, he swore he'd never tell.  
> I left it for safekeeping, I'll pick it up in Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's been a few months since the last chapter. And with that, I'd like to say, disregard whatever the fuck I said this story was gonna be because I don't know anymore and I'm just doing what I want because I'm bored.
> 
> With that, carry on my wayward readers.

“Yeah, thanks, but no thanks,” I declined his offer with enough harshness to cut down his ego. “This has all been lovely but I think I’m just gonna go home.” Between his polygamy and the disposition of his uncivilized colleagues, I’d had enough for one day. I turned to leave but he grabbed me by the wrist as soon as I had one foot out the door. When I tried to pull myself out of his grasp, he retaliated by bruising my bone with his fingers.

“Ladies,” he called behind him with looking at them, “why don’t you go take and walk and stretch your legs a bit, hm?” The usual inflection in his voice was long gone, replaced with rigid irritation.

Trapped like a mislead animal, I stood motionless in the doorway while the five of them shuffled past. Somehow, they all managed to wear a different perfume that reminded me of every bad instance that had led me to where I was now and it was rounded off by the redhead resting her hand on his arm long enough to give me a possessive, narrowed gaze before taking her leave.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d get your fucking hand off me.” I snarled once we were alone.

Overcoming the strength of my resistance was no problem for him. He yanked me back into the room and slammed the door shut behind me. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fucking talk to me like that, especially when you’re under my fucking roof.” Once I had nowhere to run, he let me go. “Now, I don’t know what kinda bipolar, mood swing bullshit you’re working through but I’d like to know what the hell your problem is because last time I checked, you made a deal with me and I’ve been going out of my fucking way to help you out.”

The daggers in my eyes turned out to be dull twigs that snapped the second I stumbled into the door and he was talking down to me, the tip of his nose nearly touching mine. I swallowed painfully loud but it was hard to avoid with my heart pounding out of my chest and into my throat. He had every inch of me covered but I still felt cold from my frayed nerves as he stared down at me with the darkest of smiles.

He bit down on his lip as he watched me have an emotional breakdown in front of him. “You know,” he chuckled, “I’ve been trying to figure you out because you’re clearly a badass but the second I get in that personal space of yours, you’re scared of your own shadow.” I should’ve wished him luck because I was still trying to decipher the long list of things that were wrong with me. The first item being why I was here in the first place.

Regardless, there was no denying the fact that he had the upper hand and having him flaunting it in my face was just another nail in my pride’s coffin. I thought about arguing but it was probably best to not justify his observation with a response.

Taking my silence as surrender, he sighed, “Tell you what,” his arm grazed my body as he reached down to grab the knife on his opposite leg, “you lost your knife at that nursing home, right?” I tipped my chin up as he pressed the tip of his blade against the skin of my throat. “Well, you apologize for snapping at me and I’ll let you keep this one, then we’ll get your people some meds and put this mess behind us. Deal?”

I shoved his arm, and his body, away from me. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

“What’s that, darlin? I couldn’t hear.” His licked his lips as he smiled to taste the sweetness of my irritation.

“Don’t push your luck,” my snapping tone was there, but it was muted as I shouldered past him to walk towards his stocked bar that was awaiting me with open arms. The sound of two heavy boots followed casually after me. Not caring what I was grabbing, I removed the cap from a crystal glass and filled up an empty cup.

“Help yourself,” he muttered sarcastically. I was halfway through my share when he set the knife on the tabletop to get himself a drink.

“Thanks,” I emptied the glass and stared at him with judgment. “So what, you’re a murdering polygamist spending the rest of your days ruling from a Virginian castle?”

He chuckled and took a sip, “Something like that,” he drawled lazily. I rolled my eyes of the distaste.

“So the world ends and you marry five women just for fun?” I didn’t know why I couldn’t just let it go.

“Always wanted to screw a bunch different women, so why play by the same rules.” he grinned and at that cheeky smile made me want to forgive him which made standing there that much harder.

Eventually, I came to my senses. “You’re disgusting,” I grabbed the knife that he had unceremoniously gifted to me before calmly retreating towards the door.

He called after me, laughing, “Fuck, Ava, come on, I was just screwing around, it’s not like that.” I stopped and stayed to listen. “I got a points system here. People work for points and points get them the shit they need. Well, some of the women don’t want to work or can’t do the work that lets them buy the expensive shit like medicine for their dying moms and husbands so I let them marry me. In exchange, they get to take care of their families for free and I get all the company I could ever want.” He looked at me and bit his lip like he was debating a sin, “Almost.”

Not entirely sure what kind of company he was referring to, I self consciously folded my arms across my chest and promptly changed the subject. “Whatever, I’m not here to tell you how to live your life." It was the best conclusion I could land on. "Can we just get the meds so I can go home?”

 

* * *

 

 

This was the opposite of what I had in mind.

I sat near the end of a wooden table in an uncomfortable metal chair that grated arrantly against my every movement. To the left of me sat the man of the hour, a menacing display of barbed wire indentations in the wood where he had slammed his bat into the table with unbridled irritation. To my right, a man with shoulder length, somewhat uncared for blonde hair and an ungodly burn on the side of his face. In his silence, he seethed with resentment but kept it smothered out of sight with rigid sighs of business and a restless slump in his shoulders. In front of me, a mouse of a man with a mullet and a trench coat that was too warm for the time of day. I eyed him with the most suspicion as he reeked of an innocence that didn’t belong in a room of stifling violence.

People were still filtering in through the door, giving me a side-eyed glance before taking a seat. “Is there any particular reason why I’m here for your fan club meeting?” I leaned over to voice my annoyance through a harsh whisper. Negan met me halfway, a crooked grin playing on his lips.

“Fan club? No, that meeting’s in the bedroom,” he was insufferable with his onslaught of red cheek inducing innuendoes, “this shit here is for strategizing.” Exasperated, I wordlessly conveyed that I still had no idea what he was talking about through an empty-handed gesture and perked brow. “You wanted to know how you’re gonna help me and this is it. Time for you step up to the plate.”

“What are you talking about? How am I supposed to help when I don’t even know what the fuck is going on?” I couldn’t get the words out fast enough before he pulled away.

When he spoke next, he projected his voice towards the rest of the room, “Listen up, this is Ava and she is the beautiful, bullet making ace up the fucking sleeve and she's gonna help figure shit out so we can go back to what we do best.” Everyone looked at me as if by force and I wasn’t sure if I should say something or just acknowledge them with a simple nod. “So, first things first, I’d like us to figure out how the fuck Rick and his little dipshit friends got the drop on me at Alexandria.”

“We got a full-on rebellion on our hands.” Some guy with an assertive stance and a full mustache chimed in from the end of the table. “Alexandria, Hilltop, and the Kingdom.” It appeared that he was speaking to me. “You can't tell me it's a coincidence that they all show up in Rick's time of need. They're all talking and somehow, they knew where we were gonna be.”

The rest of the table was quiet, waiting for someone else to speak up and reap the consequences.

“Ava, darlin’, any ideas?” The leader's gaze brought an unwanted rush of nervousness over me.

I cleared my throat, “Okay, well, I'd say start with what you know. Who all was aware of your plans?”

“Just the people here,” he leaned back in his chair and lazily rested his hands in his lap, “well, and the garbage people, I suppose.”

Every other word out of his mouth was a goddamn mystery. “Who or what are garbage people?” I asked.

“I believe they prefer the term scavengers,” mullet added with a quiet monotone.

Negan started to roll his eyes but went with a placating nod instead. “Just a group of filthy _scavengers_ that Rick made a deal with.” he paused to let a smug laugh slip out. “That is until I made a better deal with them. He gave them guns so they could fight for him but that didn’t last long.”

It was hard for me to believe that while my people and I were struggling to put food on the table and live a normal life, there were other groups out there in the middle of a testosterone-fueled civil war. “Alright, do you have any reason to believe that these people would’ve told Rick your plans? Maybe they double-crossed you for another deal?”

The villainous, cowboy looking fellow at the end of the table offered his two cents again, “They ran as soon as Kingdom and Hilltop showed up. I doubt they were even in on Rick’s plans. That being said, they didn’t exactly hold up their end of the deal either.” Judging by the annoyance that tensed his muscles, I gathered that betrayal didn’t go over well here.

“We’ll deal with that shit another day,” Negan picked up on the man’s call to justice and promptly put it on the back burner.

Before I could continue muddling through the investigative spotlight that I had been shoved into, a biker girl with short hair and a nonexistent smile cut me off. “I’m sorry, but why are we sitting here talking about all this with someone we barely know? How do we know she's not working for one of the communities?”

I scoffed, “Oh, that's original. How long did it take you to come up with that plot twist?”

Negan sighed, either at me or at the naysayer, “Regina, if I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it. Otherwise, don’t fucking interrupt. It’s...unseemly.”

I’d never had someone, let alone another man, defend my right to speak--not that I needed it--but it was a nice change of pace to not have to talk over someone else. I gave him a sheer nod when he glanced over at me and he smirked. “Well, if you’re all a hundred and ten percent sure that no one else knew about your plans, then someone in here is talking to the people out there.” It was a bold accusation, but I didn’t know any of these people so what was the harm in raising a few brows.

“Well that would be a damn shame if there ever was one, wouldn’t it? After all I’ve done for this place?” his question was rhetorical but it filled the cold room with so much malice that it became suffocating. Unconsciously, I shifted in my chair to put a modicum of distance between us.

“Don’t worry, boss, we’ll get this place locked down and smoke ‘em out.” The only other man who was brave enough to cut through the tension assured.

“Hell, yes, we will, Simon.” he agreed. “Now, everyone clear out and get to work. I need to talk with my associate for a minute.” Just when I thought I had my freedom, I realized that he was talking about me.

As everyone shuffled out of the room, I stared down at my hands as my fingers blithely tapped against the wood, careful to avoid the small splinters that had been beaten out. Simon was the last to leave, giving Negan a nod of solidarity before he sealed the door shut.

“Boy, you're not playing around, coming in here saying my people are sneaking around behind my back.” he was deceptively calm, his eyes like dark chocolate in the heat of summer. The cool smile he wore somehow made him alluring but I couldn't tell if he was upset or not.

“Would you rather me tell you what you want to hear?” I challenged quietly.

“No, that's all I hear anymore,” he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. “What I do want you to tell me is if you think you can figure out which of these assholes I need to fire.”

“I can't stay here and play detective. I have a place of my own I need to take care of.” Or had he already forgotten that other people had problems of their own? “Look, you told me that you’re not the most well-liked person, right?” He nodded; smug. “Who would want to take you down? Who have you wronged the most?”

He stood up to walk about the room as he rolled the thought around for a minute and compiled a list of people who probably wanted him in the ground and I waited with bated breath. “There’s Eugene, the guy with the hair,” he clarified, “he was with Rick’s group until I stole him as payback for one of them shooting at me but he’s too much of a pussy and a kiss ass to do anything.”

I couldn’t help but watch him talk with an absorbed gaze. The way his eyes wandered the room as he recited his thoughts and how his thumb would occasionally brush against his lip was wretchedly moving. He was arrogant but not in a way that made me hate him like I should’ve and his rich, low toned voice had a gravitational pull of its own.

“Anyone else?” I urged him to continue so I could go home and escape his magnetic persona for a while. He ambled behind me but I kept my eyes forward.

“And Dwight,” he chuckled. “I married his wife and burned half his face but he learned to toe the line.” It clicked that that must have been the stiff, irritated man who had sat next to me. “But then my wife ran off and when he went to find her, he came back to tell me that she got torn apart.” He shook his head as if it was an awkward dream that lingered in his mind, “Damn tragedy.” Then, a dim ominous light went off in his head, “Speaking of,” suddenly, his hands were on my shoulders and he leaned down to gruffly whisper in my ear, “I’m short a wife if you’re interested in joining the club.”

As if I was suddenly plunged into darkness, my heart found itself caught in my throat as the heat of his breath met my cheek. “That wasn’t part of the deal,” I reminded; shakily.

“I’m open to change,” he argued.

Finally, I looked over at him, “I just need meds, not a dysfunctional marriage.”

“Well, it was worth a try,” he laughed and roughed my shoulders up a bit to loosen me up, “come on, let’s go, I’ll get you your meds and we can keep talking while I take you home.”

 

* * *

 

I refused to look at him on the way back. Instead, I focused on the flickering shadows that my mind created as we drove past the trees. Every time he glanced over at me, I could feel it and after the sixth or seventh time, I was able to control the blood rushing to my cheeks.

Every opinionated voice in my head told me to leave. I got the meds that I needed for my people. I could just give him some more bullets and then be done with him. He didn’t need my support anyway. Why did he even want it in the first place? He had everything he needed and my metaphorical promise wasn’t going to help him any. He was a smart guy; he’d figure his problems out on his own

But yet, there was _something_ that I wanted from him.

He confidently walked a line that was somewhere between damnation and altruism and he was the kind of darkness that made me want to light up a match and see how far I could get before it burned out and left me to my own devices. He wasn’t anywhere in the realm of the type of person I should be around but I was never known for having great taste in company to begin with. Wanting to add physical evidence to the debate in my head, I gave a sheer glance in his direction; which caught his attention quicker than calling his name.

“You know, you’ve been acting weird all fucking day,” he pointed out, shattering the silence that was keeping me from losing my mind, “what the hell’s wrong with you?”

I didn’t move, hoping a deficit in my usual chafed nature would convince him to move on. “Nothing.”

“You can’t bullshit a bullshitter,” he chuckled, “just tell me what’s on your mind. We’re friends, ain’t we?”

“Alright,” I knew there wasn’t a damn thing I could say that would make him cringe or fidget in his seat so there was no harm in being honest, “I can’t decide whether I hate everything about you or if I find all of the your...eccentricities endearing and it bugs the shit out of me.”

He smiled, “Well, I ain’t never been one for first impressions, but I grow on people. But look, darlin’, if I said or did something to piss you off today, I sure as hell didn’t mean to.” That was probably the most considerate thing he'd said all day.

I blew the air out of my cheeks and pushed my hair back away from my eyes. “No, I know. You didn't do anything.” I shuffled the bag of meds on my lap and readjusted my back to stop it from aching. The lull of the tires against the road and the simplicity of sharing a quiet evening road trip with a man that wasn't as bad as I thought drove me to continue. “I don’t know, I’m not exactly great with people, either. Hell, I don't even think my own people like me half the time. ”

“I never woulda guessed,” he managed to fit an overwhelming amount of sarcasm into four little words. “You want my advice?”

“Hmm?”

“You think everyone's out to get you. Someone tries to help you and you fight them tooth and nail.”

“I don't--”

“Let me finish,” he insisted. “I get that you gotta prove to everyone that you got your shit together and that you don't need shit from anyone, but you can't shut everyone out. You think I got where I am by myself? Fuck no.” His lecture was poignantly accurate, but with my sight set out the window, he couldn’t see my pensive expression. “No one makes it alone, Ava, there’s no reason for you to be so goddamn lonely and bitter all the time.”

I gritted my teeth against one another and let out a terse sigh. “Is that why you got all those women? So you don’t get lonely?” I defended the chink in my armor by deflecting his stab back at him.

The heat of his gaze bore a hole in my back but I ignored him. “You seem awfully focused on those girls. Is there something else you’d like to get off your chest?” he snapped.

“No, I don’t, I just think it’s funny that you think _I’m_ lonely when you’re the one who needs so much fucking company.” There was something volatile between us, like fire and gasoline. We could work in harmony until one of us tried to take control, then it was a disaster.

“You see? This is what I’m talking about! Everything has to turn into a free for all with you! I’m just trying to help!” he raised his voice and I flinched at how much it resembled a bullet leaving a gun.

“Well, I didn’t fucking ask for it!” As soon as I turned to face his argument head-on, I felt the tires swerve in the slightest then something heavy collided with the front of the truck and stunted the tires enough for me to look to the fading, bleeding sunset that waited beyond the highway.

“God fucking dammit!” The wheel turned sharply under his over reflexive hand and blood from a walker splattered over the hood as he tried to regain control of the sliding vehicle. The bags of meds slid off my lap and onto the floor when I was forced in the opposite direction and into the unforgiving steel trimmed door. I could feel the back tires slipping as they tried to gain enough friction with the road to straighten out of the chaotic spin but by the time Negan’s unremitting and inexorable swearing had fixed the problem, we were heading straight into a flipped over sedan that jutted into the road.

The front of the truck ramming into the car was the only thing that managed to stop our joyride and his hand pushing me against the seat kept me from coming face to face with the ejected airbag.

The vice grip constricting my throat released and I gasped for air when I found that I wasn’t dead. “What the fuck was that?!”

He moved his hand away from my chest and rubbed the tension out of the back of his neck. “I guess I wasn’t looking at the road.”

“What do you mean you weren’t looking at the road? What the hell else is there to look at?!” Angrily, I pulled on the handle and kicked the door open so I could walk the short yet cold expectation of death out of my legs. “Fucking idiot,” I muttered once I was out of earshot. He cracked his door open but didn’t get out. When I walked around the back, I found him with one leg stretched out with his foot on the ground and his other pressing on the pedal as he tried to get the engine started.

He looked like something out of a goddamn magazine and it only inflamed my indignation.

The truck squealed an ear-splitting sound from under the hood when he turned the key and then died a quiet death shortly after. He tried it once more only to receive a short-lived rendition.

“Well, fuck,” he let his hand collapse on the wheel. I stood outside by the driver’s side, my arms crossed to trap what was left of the day’s heat in my body, scowling. “Looks like we’re walking.” He stepped out and I groaned.

“Are you kidding me?” Being trapped in a car with him was bad enough, but sharing an evening stroll had to be on top of the list of undesirable activities.

“Afraid not, darlin’,” he turned his back to me and grabbed the bat that he strangely depended on along with my bag and gifted knife. “We're probably a couple hour walk from the Sanctuary and I'd rather not be stuck in the dark for too long so let's get moving.”

“I can walk home, you don't have to drag me around with you. I can take care of myself.” After our latest spat, I wanted to lock myself in a room with a bottle of whiskey.

“Of course you can, but I'd rather you stick with me so I can keep my eye on you.” When I slumped my shoulders in petulant defeat, his words found their softer edge. “Look, I’m sorry about pushing your buttons back there. I might be an asshole but I'm not letting you wander the road by yourself, alright?”

“Fine, fine,” There was no point in denying him the chance to offer a heartfelt gesture. To be fair, he didn't do anything wrong. I'd only escalated things because I knew he was right. I couldn't put my fists down, however. “As soon as we get there, I'm taking a car and going home.”

He laughed like I was a child with a pipe dream and handed me my few belongings, “Sure thing, darlin’.”

 

* * *

 

I tried to keep my distance from him because something that resembled a bee sting shot through me every time his body grazed mine as we walked. But, I was cold and veering too far from the only source of heat I had would leave me shivering.

After witnessing my stumbling steps to keep him out of my bubble, he called me out. “You want my jacket?”

“No, I’m fine,” I declined with defiant, chattering teeth.

He shook his head with a laugh and shrugged it off so he could toss it over my shoulders. “Christ, you’re as stubborn as my Lucille.”

Thankful that the darkness could keep him from seeing my small smile, I tugged it closer to my bare skin. “Who’s that?”

He sighed, “She was my first wife; before all this.”

My interest had been piqued. Perhaps the devil had a heart after all. “What happened to her?”

He didn't sound like himself when he answered. He sounded more like a broken music box that had been patched up as best it could, but the tune of the song was never the same. “She was sick. She had cancer. Damn woman never let anyone help her.”

I bit my lip in regret. It was one thing to witness him exhibit an emotion that wasn’t brimming with arrogance but seeing him dejected was almost painful. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...bring it up.”

Resilience, however, was a strong suit of his. He bounced back with brisk, crass words. “Shit fucking happens. It can’t be fucking roses and daisies all the time.” It was clear he didn’t want to linger on his personal life as he changed the subject before I could ask about her or the fact that he may have, at one time, been a normal human being. “What about you? What lucky son of a bitch got to put up with your crazy ass?”

I grumbled in discontent at the reminder that I used to wear a wedding ring and call myself a housewife. “Someone I shouldn’t’ve married. He was a fucking asshole,” I looked up at him to see his blank facade, “he was worse than you.”

Finally, he cracked a smile, “Ah, let me guess.” His slow, swinging steps kept in pace with mine. “Liked to drink? Liked to cheat?”

Bitterness slowly ebbed into the cracks of my dry words, “And then some. The drinking turned into cheating and that turned into bruises and broken bones once I started having a problem with it.”

He shook his head with sincerity, “What a piece of shit. I’ve done some fucked up shit but hitting a woman? That ain’t ever been right.” He almost sounded angry at someone he’d never met. “What happened to him?”

“I killed him.” In my effortless admission, I paused. “I don’t know what happened. I just snapped; I couldn’t take it anymore.” It wasn’t a piece of my past that I’d shared with anyone, so why I was repenting my sins to a man of transgressions was beyond me. “One night, he got home from some bar, covered in lipstick and perfume. We started arguing and it started getting bad and I thought he was gonna kill me so I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife and...well next thing I knew I was sitting in the back of a cop car, covered in blood and wearing handcuffs.”

He blew the air from his cheeks in a sharp whistle of disbelief. “Jesus Christ, Ava, when the hell did this happen?”

“Fuck, it’s been so long I don’t remember. Six, seven years? The court called it justified homicide and they gave me three years in jail. I’d only been out for a week when shit hit the fan.”

He held his hand up, trying to catch a memory from the air, “Wait a fucking minute,” he sounded eager, “I remember you. You were all over the news for weeks. You killing your husband was apparently the only exciting thing to happen to that city.” He laughed his inanely addictive laugh to match his exuberant smile. “Hmm, I do like a woman who can handle herself.” Playfully, he grabbed my arm and hugged me to his side, alleviating the tension between us with just a touch.

Involuntarily, I let out an odd yet joyful sound that I hadn’t heard in a while. It was probably wrong on some moral level to joke about my murderous flaw but I rathered he make fun than pass judgment.

“Well, I like a man who can hotwire a car.” I pushed him away and towards the abandoned vehicle that began to show itself with a silhouette in the dark. “Think you can get that going?”

“Wouldn’t be worth much if I couldn’t.” He moved his bat in my general direction. “Here, hold this.”

 

* * *

 

It felt like I was riding a wave on the ocean, with my face pressed towards the sun. There was a drum pounding in my ear; loud and purposeful. My feet were dangling off a ledge, the sides of my boots chafing against one another. Slowly, I came to, my eyes flickering open a few times to register the grey cement walls that were flowing past. Steps echoed against them and they certainly weren’t mine.

“Oh, you’re awake,” the familiarity of the voice woke me up. I opened my eyes and lifted my head to see the black leather jacket that I had been using as a pillow.

“What the hell?” I asked, groggily. He adjusted his arms beneath me which sent me falling back against his chest.

“You passed out in the car and I couldn’t wake you up for shit. Figured you’d wanna wake up in a bed.” he seemed inexplicably unbothered by the fact that he was carrying me down a hallway in the middle of the night.

“Put-put me down, I can walk.” I kicked at the air in a desperate need to feel the ground beneath my independent feet.

“I’m alright,” he breathed a grin, “I quite like the view.”

“Negan, put me down,” I demanded weakly as I pushed against his chest.

He sighed in annoyance, “Ava, calm down, Jesus fucking Christ, don’t you ever relax?”

“I’m not having a fucking slumber party with your wives,” I continued to squirm in my own reluctance.

“As much as I would love to see that,” he held his own against my struggles, my efforts only forcing him to tighten his grasp on my body. Either he was running a few degrees warmer than average or I was running a nervous fever because the more he insisted on keeping me close, the hotter I felt. “I was gonna put you in one of the spare bedrooms unless you’d rather keep each other company tonight.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I sputtered one last indignation before crossing my arms and ignoring his presence.

“Spare room it is then,” he affirmed. My silence was unrefined and blundering as he took me to an ajar door that he nudged open with his boot, a wolfish grin on his comely face. “Breakfast is at 8, check out is at 9 and don’t try to sneak out because I _will_ know.” With that, he abruptly relinquished his support and dropped me onto a twin size bed that I nearly fell off of.

Trying my damndest to be civil, I muttered, “Thank you,” and sat up straight, my knees pulled to my chest.

He gave a valiant, smug sigh, “Night darlin’,” he bent down and pressed his lips to the top of my head. “Come find me if you can’t sleep.” My skin felt scalding hot where his lips had been and he used my state of shock to sneak out the door before I could find something to stab him with.

Flustered beyond the point of no return, I turned the light off so I wouldn’t have to look at the room around me and buried my face in the pillow to muffle my noise of discontent.

The thought of seeing him yet again tomorrow filled me with inexplicable dread but there was no avoiding it.

Maybe I’d get lucky and die in my sleep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking: None of this makes any sense! What is this shit?  
> Well, I don't know, just go with it and humor me and enjoy the rest of your day!


	7. It Will Come Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't let me in with with no intention to keep me.  
> Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me.  
> Honey, don't feed me, I will come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's only been a few months since I added anything to this so here's a few pages! Yes, it's short but that's okay because it's cheap fun.

The pillow I rested my head on smelled like it hadn’t been touched in months, as if it was washed and then left to collect dust. I woke somewhere around four in the morning to mind numbing darkness and laid on top of the blankets and stared at the only window until the sunrise saturated the sky and spilled over into room.

It was a small room, but the few pieces of furniture made it feel larger. In one corner, there was a TV, nicer than any one I’d ever had, with a worn, off-green leather chair placed awkwardly in front of it. Near the TV was a kitchenette that ran along the wall with a sink and a campfire stove. On the opposite corner, a bookcase brimming with random books that would’ve probably been sold for a quarter at a garage sale if such things still existed. Beside me stood a nightstand with a fake plant on top to cover up the bloodstain that had painted itself into the wood.

The air leaving my lungs was the only sound in the room as I rolled over to my side to observe the empty metal rod that was screwed sloppily into the wall to house clothes if anyone were to ever take up residence. Part of me began to wonder if he had dumped me in this room to try and sway me into staying and surrounding myself to what he referred to as luxuries. If I only had myself to worry about, I would consider making the room my own but that wasn’t the case. I had a community of half cocked, dependent people who grated my nerves on a regular basis that I had to get back to.

I knew that there’d probably be hell to pay when I got back. I had left with a promise that I’d be back before the day’s end, medicine in tow, and yet here I was, spending the night under a strange man’s roof while they were left wondering if I had gotten myself killed by my own hubris. Some of them may not have cared about my whereabouts, but the one thing I knew for certain was that Ryan would have a lecture fit for a rebellious teenager waiting for me when I did finally make it home.

Pushing the dreadful idea out of my mind, I sat up and forced myself to stretch my legs and walk about the room. My hands and fingers mindlessly fiddled with the small baubles on the bookshelf and the counter until I was brought to the realization that I was starving when my eyes caught the mini fridge tucked under the counter of the kitchenette. I opened it, expecting something along the lines of a can of fruit cocktail or an old but unopened bottle of flavored water. What I found, however, was nothing but a bright light and empty shelves. I sighed, my stomach sharing a sound of discontent as I shut the door.

There was a knock, or two, or three, on the door and I half heartedly snarled at the occurrence. I had a very strong inkling of who was on the other side and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face him again after his little stunt last night. Regardless, I was going to have to face him sometime and I told myself the sooner I got it over with, the sooner I could find something suitable to eat. It was enough motivation for me to drag my feet across the carpet and to the entrance.

When I opened the door, I was greeted by the most persistent, frustrating, immovable, obstacle I’d ever had the misfortune of coming across.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he was a strong, dark cup of coffee with a rich smile that I couldn’t help but awkwardly reflect. Aside from the glaringly out of place but oddly convenient plate of food in his hand, I neglected to realize that my eyes were wandering down his body until they stopped at the untucked belt that he knowingly left in a careless, cocky fashion.

He whistled to get my attention, “I’m up here, darlin’.”

Cheeks on fire, I attempted to appear aloof. “Grey shirt today?” I cleared my throat as if I was choking on my own embarrassment. “I see you’re branching out with your wardrobe.”

“Casual Friday,” he smirked, “speaking of, I brought you a change of clothes if you want,” he dropped a pile of dark tinted fabric on the bed when he let himself in, “and breakfast made by yours truly.”

“Really?” I eyed the waffle with heavy suspicion. “You can cook?”

“Of course I can fucking cook. I’m not a fucking one trick pony.” It almost seemed like I had insulted him, if that was even possible.

“Yeah,” I drawled, gnawing on my lip for a moment, “you’re something else, alright.” It felt comfortably crowded with him in the room. Normally, I couldn’t be bothered to have people sharing my space but he must have been wearing me down with his lack of personal boundaries.

“You sleep alright?” His newfound dialogue was considerate and it matched the endearing, semi permanent smile he was sporting.

“As well as I could, I guess.” I shrugged and looked around the room before letting my gaze settle on him and the rare sight of his bare arms. He set the plate down on the short dresser beside us and I spoke up. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I exasperated. “I was kinda a bitch to you yesterday.” Though I wasn't willing to apologize, I could at least admit to being in the wrong.

He gazed down at me and inhaled sharply before answering. “Maybe I want us to have a fresh start? Or,” he drawled, “maybe I’m trying to convince you to stay here; reconsider that offer of unholy matrimony?”

I snuffed a laugh, “Have you forgotten that I brutally murdered my last husband?”

He grinned to prove otherwise. “I haven’t. In fact, it's a huge turn on.”

Of course it was. “I appreciate your perverse understanding but I’m not gonna be one of your wives.” If anything, I was saving him the trouble of carrying my years of emotional baggage.

His voice switched back to its deep alluring tune. “Friends with benefits?” He cupped my chin in his rugged hand and I let him do so without the slightest argument.

I rolled my eyes, “No.”

He pursed his lips and tried a different approach with a lighthearted glint in his dark eyes. “Kinky acquaintances?”

I stood my ground with amused force, “No.” This wasn’t a matter of life or death, it was about not letting that damn smile and rough voice get the best of me.

He gave one, last, valiant attempt. “Friendly strangers?” With one casual step, he closed the distance that should’ve been between two friendly strangers, but I chose not to move away this time.

I tried to give it some thought but my mind was nothing but radio silence. Instead, I took a deep breath and finally spoke, “I suppose that would be fine.” Without giving me a chance to change my mind, he tilted my chin up and pressed his lips against mine to seal the deal. Whatever reservations I had about him being too close to me were recklessly pushed aside by the way he smiled a boastful grin against my lips and moved his hand to my side. Hesitantly, my hand drifted up his chest as I kissed him back with an immense uncertainty.

He pulled away just enough to let me breathe, his teeth tugging on my bottom lip before he brought his mouth back to mine with rough impatience. I had to grab onto his jacket to keep my feet under me but I held my own against his rugged fervency. Giving me the guidance he knew I needed, he gently grabbed my arm and ushered it around his neck just so he could wrap his arm over my waist and pull me closer to him.

Not knowing what was happening, and not really caring either, I let myself get lost in the first bit of physical attention that I'd had in years. The objects on the dresser clattered against the wood when he pushed me against it, his hand blindly attempting to close the open door to the hallway.

But, it didn't last long.

“Ava!?” the gut wrenchingly recognizable voice of a high strung young man with an inexplicable vendetta against the man whose arms I was entrapped in brought me back to reality.

I abruptly pulled myself away from Negan with cheeks burning like a wildfire and my hand covering my mouth. I couldn’t decide if I was more mad at myself for giving into his smooth words or at him for tricking me so facilely.

Negan chuckled quietly at the state he'd put me in and let me go but kept me close. “Oh goody, Ryan's here,” he doled out a heavily annoyed exclamation.  

“Ryan? What the hell are you doing here? I removed my hand from my mouth and put some much needed distance between Negan and myself.

Ryan stormed over to me, his hands shaking with anger. “What the hell are _you_ doing?!” he snapped back. “You didn't come back last night so I came to find you. I thought you'd be here; looks like I was right.” There was an odd sense of disappointment weighing his unfortunate realization down.

“Relax, Ryan, I'm taking care of her.” Negan chimed in just to spite him. I didn’t know when this little game started between the two of them but I wished they’d call it quits and stay out of one another’s way. I knew Negan participated just for the sheer joy of breaking another man’s spirit but Ryan wasn’t as iron willed as him and it only riled him up to the point of putting himself in harm’s way. “I'll bring her home; when she's ready.”

Ryan spoke to me like I was a misguided child, “Ava, come on, let me take you home. You don't belong here.”

Though part of me was digging my heels in to keep me from leaving, I knew that staying would only make things worse. “I should...I should probably go back.” My voice was quiet with doubt and Negan clung to my uncertainty like a life preserver in the open ocean. Hastily, I picked up the bag of meds that I had come here for in the first place.

“We were in the middle of something before this lovesick dickhead showed up,” Negan insulted Ryan as he spoke exclusively to me, trying to win me over with sarcasm and a crass monologue, “stay a while. Eat some breakfast.” he grinned.

“I...I can't,” I stammered. I didn't know if I should thank him for all he had done, hug him for the amount of attention he had dotingly given to me, or apologize for giving him the wrong impression; so I turned to leave in an awkward, flustered hurry instead.

“Ava! Darlin', come on!” his effort to keep me there was minimal, but it was enough. I glanced over my shoulder to see him with an empty embrace but a cocky smile.

“I'll see you later, alright?” I called back to him as I followed a very irritated Ryan through the hallway that I had been carried through last night.

I could barely hear his reply as I rounded the corner, “I’ll be waiting.”

 

“I can’t believe you! What were you thinking?!” The car swerved as Ryan shouted at me, his hand leaving the wheel to slice through the air as if he wanted to smack sense into me. My mind flashed back to my last adventure with a swerving car and I made a motion to keep his eyes on the road.

Matching his energy, I retorted, “Would you calm down? I didn’t do anything!”

He scoffed, his words coated in incredulity. “You were ten seconds away from screwing the guy!”

I rolled my eyes, “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ryan, that is bullshit and you know it.” I feared, however, that he may have been right and decided not to linger on the alternate outcome that nearly became a reality. I reverted back to the defensive nature that Negan claimed would be my downfall. “Besides, what I do with what little spare time I have is none of your goddamn concern.”

Apparently, though, it was his concern. I’d even argue that it was starting to grow into an obsession. “Ava, the guy is dangerous. He’s just using you, he doesn't give a shit about you.”

His recognition of the obvious did little to change the residual thrum of adrenaline that was keeping my heart running at a rugged pace. It’d been a long while since anyone was able to make me forget that everything and everyone I ever knew was dead and gone.

And, fuck, psycopath or not he was damn good looking.

I threw my hands up to release the vexation from my balled up fists. “Well, it’s not like I give a shit about him. Ryan, what is your problem? It was just a...it wasn’t anything!” Right. That’s what I had to keep telling myself. It _wasn’t_ anything.

“My _problem_ ” he snapped, disgruntled with my blatant ignorance, “is that you’re going to get hurt. I meant what I said the other night. I’m worried about you and this guy isn’t good for you.”

As I looked out the window, I tucked my hands back against my chest and it felt like I was reenacting a modified version of last night’s theatrics. “Oh, and you know what’s good for me?”

He couldn’t keep his voice from exceeding a tolerable volume. “It sure isn’t him! After all you’ve been through, you deserve someone who’s gonna treat you right and appreciate you, not use you and throw you aside when he’s done.” I snorted the air through my nose. He acted like I had so many options nowdays.

“I know what you’re getting at, Ryan, and it’s...it’s not gonna happen.” He wanted to be with me. He wanted to be the one to put the smile on my face and give me a kiss at the end of the day but it was never anything I wanted to share with him. He was persistent, more so than I initially gave him credit for and every time I had to tell him no, it only pushed me further away.

“Why the hell not?!” he slammed his hands against the wheel and the engine hummed louder when he accelerated. Alarmed, I looked over to see every muscle in his lanky, athletic frame tensed. The more attention I gave him, the more I noticed just how flustered his appearance was. He hadn’t shaved in a few days--when it was rare to even see him with a five o’ clock shadow-- and there were hints of dark circles beneath his green eyes. What the hell was going on with him lately?  

Exasperated beyond my limits, I gave him the cold truth. “Because, Ryan, you’re just--you’re just not my type, okay? I don’t know how the fuck else you want me to say it. You’re a nice guy, Ryan, and that’s great, but someone like you belongs with anyone but me.”

My mother was an addict, my father was a drunk and my first husband was an abusive cheater. The characters in my story didn’t share any admirable qualities and over time, I gave up on the idea of my prince charming rescuing me from the fire breathing dragon that stalked my hopes and dreams and burned them to ash. There was no point in dragging someone like him down along with me to my own personal hell.

Quieter now, he grasped for his words, trying to find the right ones to change my mind. “So what about that night in that RV? When you told me about your husband and we…”

I cut him off all too abruptly. That night we shared at the beginning of the end was a mistake and something that I regretted every day only because he held onto with the voracity of a man drowning in a raging river. “We were both scared and alone, Ryan. That’s it. I used you.” I used the weapon of his words against him in hopes that he’d begin to understand. “You think I’m someone you wanna be with? I’m no better than what you’re trying to protect me from and the sooner you get that through your fucking head the easier your life is gonna be.”

 

The door clipped the heel of my boot as I entered Kyra’s medical office. It was stuffy and humid in the small room despite the fact that she had the windows wide open to welcome the sun in. I blamed it on the fact that she had every damn inch of the walls covered in paintings and posters of flowers and sunsets and all things good and holy in the world. I tried not to come in too often as the overwhelming positivity made me nauseous.

My plan was to stop in, drop off the meds I had gotten from the Sanctuary and then leave. However, when I rounded the corner to see Georgie sitting on the end of the medical table, my concern changed everything.

“Georgie,” I called, “what are you doing in here? You okay?” I gave him a quick once over and didn’t see any physical harm which worried me more. Georgie was old, far too old for this world now and everyone here, including him, knew it. That didn’t mean I was willing to let him go anytime soon. He was the closest thing I had to a true friend. Shit, he was the closest thing I had to a family.

He smiled like he was just happy to be breathing the air around him, “I’m just fine, Ava, don’t you worry about me. Just been feeling a little dizzy lately is all.” That didn’t ease my creased brow any.

Kyra sighed to make me aware of her presence. She had her stethoscope slung around her neck and it seemed to take up most of her small frame. “You need to drink more water, George. You’re gonna get dehydrated.” she told both him and me of his condition. Her tone sharpened when she looked at me, standing in the doorway with what was probably an unappealing blend of bedhead and wrinkled clothes. “Where have you been? You were supposed to be back yesterday with medicine.” I was unaware that she was keeping tabs on my itinerary and I scowled.

“Don’t worry, I got your fucking meds,” I knew Georgie hated to hear anyone swear, me most of all, but after the morning I had, I was already struggling to find what was left of my patience for Kyra’s snippy attitude. I chucked the bag at her and the air rushed out of her lungs in a surprised huff when she caught it.

She unzipped and her lips pulled apart in what I assumed was a pleased expression, “Wow, this is,” I wished I had a camera to capture the first moment I’d made her speechless so that I could remember what it was like to not hear her voice, “this is great, Ava, this is gonna help a lot of people here.” Her small hands rifled through the menagerie of pill bottles and her lips moved quickly as she read the names to herself.  

“That’s the idea,” my ability to keep up a conversation with her was getting bowled over by the piercing headache behind my eyes. “Got any pain meds?” I made my way over to the small tea tin that she kept the loose, mismatched pills in.

She forwent her usual scoff at the side effects of my alcohol deprivation, “Yeah, there’s some in there.” The zipper closed on the bag and she started towards the back, “I’m gonna go make an inventory of these.” Lost in thought, she muttered a goodbye to Georgie and I.

Meanwhile, I grabbed a small handful of what looked like ibuprofen and swallowed them without any water to force them down. Georgie, muted concern all over his face, sat on the edge of the table, watching me. Exhausted, I collapsed onto the desk chair across from him, the wheels carrying me erratically in the opposite direction from the force of my landing.

“Are _you_ alright, kiddo?” he perked a brow at what appeared to be my newfound low.

I waved his worry away with the hand that wasn’t rubbing the side of my head, “Yeah, I’m just a little tired. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Ryan was pretty worried about you. Everything go alright yesterday?” Without making any outloud assumptions of what exactly I was doing last night, he tried to find the truth for himself.

“Of course he was,” I muttered to myself but he still caught my bitter remark. “It was fine, ran into some car troubles. Took me a little longer to get home.” I offered the simplest, most innocent truth I could find.

I vaguely recalled promising Negan that I was going to drive myself home as soon as we got to the Sanctuary last night, but clearly, he twisted my plan in a different direction with his cunning smile and sly hands. When my thoughts inevitably raced back to this morning, my cheeks acted in their own accord and presented themselves as a cherry red guilt.

Georgie picked up on my flustered appearance and his knitted brows and taught smile softened in the slightest as if he knew that there were some personal details I was leaving out.  He held his hand up in understanding, “Ah,” he digressed with a timeless wink, “forget I said anything.”

I snapped my head up and quickly shook it to try and explain, my face on fire, “No, Georgie, it’s not like that.”

He chuckled, “It’s none of my business, Ava. Just be careful. You know men, we’re nothing but trouble.” His whiskered face lit up with a grin.

I rolled my eyes, “Yeah, I’ll say. What are you doing in here, Georgie? You gotta be here for the long haul with me.” He was someone to assure everyone else that he was fine when he was far from it. I was worried that there was something more going on than some dehydration induced dizziness; but he’d never say a word because he never wanted to be a burden.

He sighed and stood up to prove that he was in the same condition as usual. His knees popped and cracked when he put his weight down and he kept his back rolled forward just enough to ease any discomfort when he walked. “I’m fine,” he reached his hand out and rustled my pillow brushed hair. I smirked in amusement and finally felt happy to be home. “I’m not going anywhere, kiddo. I promise.”

 

A week passed without sight or sound of my leather clad hellion of an ally. At first, I caught myself wondering what he was doing or if he had forgotten about me but by the third day of his absence, I had to stop myself to keep from forming a detrimental habit.

Aside from that, everyone else in the community seemed to be at ease now that I was no longer leaving or bringing strangers inside our walls. Kyra had made use of the medicine, no one was going hungry, bullets were being made at a moderate pace and even Ryan's bitter edge had softened enough to make him bearable to be around again.

Still, I couldn't help but miss _his_ perverse form of attention, especially as I was helping Penny in the garden that she tended to. On our hands and knees, we had been pulling weeds and tilling the soil for the past few hours.

“I don't know, do you think it's weird? Would that be weird to do now?” Sitting up to rest on her heels, she used the back of her dirt covered hands to whisk her bangs from her eyes.

Lost in my own debate, I realized I wasn't being the best listener. “What would be weird?” I pulled a weed out of the ground and tossed it in the wicker basket with the rest of them.

“If...ya know, Mac and I got, like, married.” she stumbled through the path of her words.

I stopped digging through the dirt for a brief moment to process her worry, then shook my head, blowing the air from my cheeks in uneasiness. “I ain't the best person to ask about marriage,” I prefaced, “but the way I see it, there aren't any rules anymore so I say do whatever the hell you want.” Hell, a certain asshole had five wives and was looking for a sixth one so there truly were no boundaries to cross.

I couldn't tell if she was pleased with my answer or not. “I know, it's just, with the way things are, would it be stupid to do? What if something happens and it only lasts for a month?!” She was a young hopeless romantic and I had nothing to offer her but my nonchalant perspective.

I shrugged, “Even before all this, shit like that could happen so what's it matter? If that's what makes you two happy then do it.”

She bit on her lip, “Well, here's the thing, Mac hasn't exactly proposed.” She replayed her confession and found a flaw and corrected herself. “He hasn't brought it up, really.”

I loved Penny like a sister I never had, I really did, but I wished she had chosen someone else to talk about this with. I wasn't a fan of romance and relationships and at the end of the day, the residual thought of them typically sent me straight to the bottle.

“Pen,” I sighed, “you two have been together a while. You're both adults. Just ask him. It's not like he's gonna say no.” And why would he? Even before all this, she would have been considered one of the most beautiful people I’d ever met what with her long hair, flawless porcelain skin, and soft brown eyes. I envied her natural grace and open minded disposition but, even if I had what she had, it wouldn’t do anything for me nowadays.

“I know,” she slumped her shoulders, “I'm just scared.”

“There's a lot of things out there that are scarier, Pen, just talk to him.” I wished that was the worst thing she had to fear.

She nodded and, much to my happiness, kept the peace between us as we went back to work; for a moment. “Have you--were you ever married?” I pinched my eyes shut just long enough to steady myself without her seeing. Why did I keep getting dragged into reliving my past mistakes this week?

I grumbled, my memories coming out as the sound of a bear leaving hibernation, “Yeah, didn’t work out for me.” To put it lightly. Penny was too gentle and wouldn’t have reacted well to knowing that my definition of divorce was stabbing him with a kitchen knife.  

“Oh,” her eyes shifted uneasily, knowing she struck a hidden nerve of mine, “sorry.”

“Don’t be. He was an asshole.” I still cursed his name, spat it from my mouth like bad medicine. “But Mac’s a good guy. Just stop overthinking it.” I tried to put an end to this agonizing exchange.

“I’ll try,” she promised half heartedly. Just when I thought this dreadful conversation had come to a fateful close, she opened her mouth again. “Do you ever think about--”

Given the nature of the topic she chose to linger on, I knew what she was going to ask. “Settle down with someone? _Put my self out there again?_ ” I mocked, “No, hell no. I went down that road once and that was enough for me.” Even though Penny was beside me, it felt more like I was scolding myself. I was wise enough to acknowledge the fact that I had spent far too much time thinking back on my thirty seconds of bliss that I had a few mornings back and I was not going to allow myself to be influenced so easily. “Besides, most of the men that are left are narcissistic assholes,” I muttered with one person in particular in mind.

“Damn, darlin’, I sure as _shit_ hope you’re not talking about me.”

Withholding a yelp of surprise, I opted to let the shiver creep down my spine instead at the sound of his voice. Penny nearly gave herself whiplash when she turned to see who it was before she began to scramble as far away as possible from the man that stood silently behind us. Negan stomped his foot and chuckled through his amused smile at the reaction he had received and I glared at him disapprovingly. Penny had every right to be frightened of him. The last time she met him, he had a gun put to the back of her head.

He shrugged and let his bat swing down from his shoulder to rest next to leg. “I see Richard let you in,” I surmised, my lips pursed. I wished I had the nerve to smack that flirtatious grin that he was giving me off his face.

He hummed, “Damn near pissed himself when I pulled up.” Yep, that sounded like Richard. That being said, I probably had to start considering a new job for him.

Not bothering to get up, I crassly wiped the excess dirt that clung to my hands on my jeans to try and make it seem like I was ubothered by his presence. “Well, aside from terrorizing my people, what are you doing here?” I wondered, burying the hopefulness in my voice under miles of emotionless tones.

“Well, as much as I hate to break up your little garden party here,” he flippiantly waved a hand over the patch of dirt we were mulling around in, “but you;” he pointed at me, “we have some serious business to attend to.”

 

 

How disappointed am I that they missed the perfect opportunity to have him shirtless on TWD?

No words can describe my anguish.

At least there's this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have every intention on seeing this story through but fuck me, it might take me a while.


End file.
